


The Prince and the Moon God

by Seeroftodayandtomorrow



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Happy Ending, Human Sacrifice, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2018-11-30 00:35:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11452323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seeroftodayandtomorrow/pseuds/Seeroftodayandtomorrow
Summary: "It is the sole purpose of Blaine's birth. One hundred years will have passed when he reaches his twenty-first year. Then he will be put on a ship, make the long voyage to the Isle, and have his throat cut to make sure his family keeps its power."Inspired by a story by Megan Derr.





	1. Prologue

Prologue

 

The servants adore him.

Blaine is a friendly, sweet child, never too wild, never too demanding, and doesn't abuse his status like his older brother sometimes does, treating the people who serve him like so much dirt. He says please, and thank you, and picks up after himself.

His teachers like him.

The young prince is eager to learn, they say, and treats his tutors with great respect. He is punctual to his lessons and never complains about too much work. He excels at history, music and art, and is competent with a sword and a good rider who never abuses his animals.

Cooper, the crown prince, treats him with the neglective affection that is the way of older brothers, tousling his hair one moment and shoving him away the next. Sometimes he looks at him with an endless sadness and tenderness and something that is almost guilt, before challenging him to a race and then scolding him for not winning.

He has no friends. There are no more siblings, and the other children at the castle have been taught from the cradle that he is the prince, so bowing before him and treating him with utmost deference is second nature to them. He treats them with friendliness, but not with friendship.

His father is the king. He is a tall, imposing figure on a throne, and Blaine bows before him just like anyone else in the kingdom. He calls him “my king”, or “sir”, and sometimes has the feeling of having failed him in some way. Sometimes, very rarely, the king lays his hand on Blaine's shoulder and gives him a tight, short smile.

His mother has not touched him since the day of his birth.

 

He is fifteen years old when he finds out why. He is summoned before his father, not to the throne room but to his living quarters. The door to the next room is firmly closed, but he can hear his mother playing the harpsichord. It is his greatest pleasure as well, and he often wishes to talk to her about it, or play together, but the queen almost always leaves the room when he enters it.

It is the longest time he has spent in his father's presence except for official banquets and the like. He cries, and he rages, and he knows for sure that in this he has failed his father, but for once, he doesn't care.

Back in his own chambers, he gets drunk for the first time in his life. He stays in his bedroom for three days.

Afterwards, he has brought to him all the books the royal library has to offer on religion and history and mythology, and then he goes there himself and gets those books he wasn't brought. And he sees that it's true. His family has ruled the country for generations. Their power is of divine origin and lies in a sacred amulet that is dedicated to the moon god. A replica is proudly shown in the royal temple, but the original is safely stored away in the treasury. Without it, it is said, the royal family's power would wane and they would surely be overthrown.

But there is something else they have to do, something that is not known to anyone outside the royal family. For the moon is about change; it is always changing itself, waxing and waning, and the world changes with it. For something to remain constant, for one family to always rule without challenge, without unrest, it requires a sacrifice.

Every hundred years, a royal child is taken to the Isle of the Moon. He is bathed in the sacred pond beneath the full moon, when there is no wind so the waters are completely still and the moon's reflection is clearly seen. Then his throat is cut, so that his blood is absorbed by the amulet and the power stays with it, with the family.

It is the sole purpose of Blaine's birth. One hundred years will have passed when he reaches his twenty-first year. Then he will be put on a ship, make the long voyage to the Isle, and have his throat cut to make sure his family keeps its power.


	2. Chapter 2

“Why do I always have to do that? That's not what I signed up for when I agreed to be your bodyguard,” Sam says, grumbling, as he dons the overly frilly clothing that Blaine hopes will tell people he's a merchant with more money than taste.

“It's what you signed up for when you agreed to be my friend,” Blaine answers, giving the lace at Sam's throat and the gold earring a last look. He himself is in his usual garb, but then he isn't going out to the docks to secure passage on a vessel whose captain might be willing to make a little detour for enough money.

Sam sits down with a sigh. “So now I'm your friend, am I?”

”Of course you're my friend,” Blaine says. He gives Sam a curious look.

“You've been morose for months and you won't tell me why, and you're much more prone to drink by yourself, in silence, than to share a glass with your friend.”

Blaine lets himself sink into the big armchair by the fire.

“I know. I'm sorry.”

He's been feeling guilty on top of everything else for distancing himself from Sam, but what was he to do? He can't talk to anyone, is completely alone with everything he carries inside him, and sometimes, he can only bear it when he drinks until he falls asleep. And if he drinks with Sam, he fears he will talk. And he can't.

“I'll be gone soon,” he offers. He knows it doesn't help.

“Why won't you take me with you?” They've had this exact conversation at least a dozen times.

“I need to go alone. Besides, you are getting married.”

Sam smiles for a moment as he nods. “But I don't understand why I can't get married and keep my best friend.”

Blaine shrugs helplessly. There's nothing he can tell Sam that sounds even remotely like the truth. He knows Sam knows he's lying, and understands that it's something he can't or won't talk about. It doesn't make Blaine feel any less guilty.

“You know I'm not happy here. Court is stifling,” he says, looking at Sam. “I feel like if I don't leave, I'm going to die.”

It's so true he almost laughs. Of course, he'll also die if he leaves. But at least he'll die on his own terms.

“You'll leave, too, won't you?” he asks urgently. Another thing he feels guilty about: making Sam lose his job. But the king won't react kindly to a bodyguard who had let his son escape.

Sam nods. “Right after you do. We'll go to Mercedes' parents. They are wealthy, and they like me and can use my work. You know that. We've talked about it.”

Blaine forces a smile. “Then go and get me passage on a ship.”

Sam gives a short, military bow. “Yes, your highness. Although you already have one, it's only final negotiations now.”

He salutes, turns around and marches out the door, and Blaine almost laughs.

* * *

He hasn't laughed much in the last few years, hasn't had much reason to, though when he did, it was mostly Sam who made it happen. He's glad for Sam now, so much, even though he fought against this friendship for as long as he could. But Sam latched tight and didn't let go, and at some point, Blaine was simply too worn out to fight. Even though it hurts to think that he must leave him behind.

He has made a plan.

He has, of course, thought about running away. They can't sacrifice him if they can't find him, after all. He doesn't care for wealth, for all the comfort his life as a prince provides him with. But he does care for his family, and he knows that if he's gone, they'll take Cooper or, more probable and also a thousand times worse, little Maya, Cooper's daughter, who is only five years old.

He can't let that happen. But he also can't let his family sit on their power like a fat spider in her net, caring for nobody and nothing except keeping and accumulating that power. They are not even particularly good rulers. It says something about somebody, Blaine thinks, if they are ready to sacrifice one of their own every one hundred years, not for the greater good or any noble cause, but just so that everything stays the same. It's no wonder they'd be equally ruthless in other things, and their people don't love them, don't stay loyal out of love, but just because the amulet puts some kind of spell on them that makes them indifferent - “tractable”, in his father's words.

Some of their people are starving. Crime rates are high. Brigands wander the land, stealing and burning unchecked, and people accept them like storms or sickness, something that can't be stopped, though they could be. Blaine feels sick to think about it, but he starts to feel sick if he thinks too much at all.

His family won't have the amulet much longer.

He will take it from them. Tonight, he will steal the amulet, and then at dawn tomorrow, he will sail away to the Moon Isle, and there, he will die. The sacred pond, while shallow at the edge, is said to be immeasurably deep in the middle. He will slit his wrists, let the blood run into the amulet, and then walk into the pond with it, right into the unfathomable depths, hopefully to be lost forever.

That is his plan. He will die, but he will do it on his own terms, in his own time. If he has to give up his life, let it be without a priest droning on above him about noble sacrifice and service to the God and the monarchy, and other things he doesn't believe. He will die, but he will take the amulet with him, he will take the power with him.

He will die. Because the Moon God must be given his due. Because maybe, if he dies, if he gives his life blood to the Moon God, Cooper will have a chance to reign, to make everything right, before it is found out that the amulet is missing and he and his family die in a violent uprising.

Cooper might make a good king. He is selfish and vain, but not ruthless, not devoid of compassion. He has a good wife that will make him do the right things. He has a family he cares for, and if he has to, he will actually work for them to have a future.

* * *

Blaine sighs, straightens his coat, and goes to see his father.

“My king.” He bows before the king, every inch the obedient, dutiful son he has been playing for the last few years. He acts like he has come to terms with his fate, like he accepts it and sees it as the honor they have been telling him it is. He hopes it has been convincing enough to get him what he wants today.

“It is only a few weeks now,” he says when the king acknowledges him, “until my fate will be fulfilled. I have come to ask that my allowance be raised until I depart.”

“Why?” the king asks. “Have we not been generous?”

“Most generous,” Blaine answers. “I have never lacked for anything.” Except for parental affection and the prospect of a long life, of course. “But I would like to bestow some small tokens of farewell to those dear to me.”

Some time passes before the king finally nods. “Very well. It's a gesture worthy of a prince. I'll have a letter drafted that allows you access to the treasury. I trust you to know how much is appropriate.”

“Thank you, sir.” Blaine bows and would have left, but his father calls him back.

“I also trust you have not told anyone. and won't do so in the future.”

Blaine bows again. “Of course not, father.”

That much, at least, is true.

Blaine goes to charm his father's secretary into hurrying with the letter, even though he's fairly sure his father meant it to be ready only in the morning. Blaine knows why: tomorrow at dawn, the amulet is taken out of the treasury to the temple to be cleaned and prepared to better take the sacrifice, to ensure the family's power for another hundred years. There will be prayers spoken over it and holy balms rubbed into it and a special, secret ritual held every evening at moonrise until their departure—or there would be, since when dawn comes tomorrow, the amulet, and Blaine himself, will be gone.

He would have liked to have more time, but he never would have been given permission to go to the treasury earlier, and he has no illusions about his own ability to somehow break in or steal his father's key. He can only hope that a sailor's idea of dawn is an earlier one than that of a priest.

He obtains the letter because the secretary is not a member of the royal family and does not know of the sacrifices required to keep them in position, nor of the minute details involved in making the sacrifice successful. The red seal still wet on the parchment, Blaine departs towards his own chambers, feeling something almost akin to elation.

He packs his small bag with the most humble clothes he possesses, orders dinner to be brought to his rooms later, and then waits.

* * *

At about the time his father sits down to dinner and everybody knows to disturb him only in case of emergencies, then and after, Blaine goes down to the treasury. He has with him a small bag used for carrying coins; he is also wearing loose clothes that would allow him to hide a bigger object beneath them.

He shows his letter to the guards. They bow and let him in, and for the first time in his life, he stands in the royal treasury. As a child, he had imagined it as a dragon's hoard, with mountains of gold and jewels just heaped up inside the room. In truth, it looks rather understated: just a room with chests along the walls, and a few shelves filled with expensive fabrics and antiques that are mostly used to gift to foreign dignitaries.

He fills his bag with gold from one of the chests; he hasn't lied to his father, although Sam is the only one he wants to give something, so his token of affection will be more than enough to compensate him for the loss of his job, Blaine hopes, and maybe along with his bride will compensate him somewhat for the loss of his best friend.

Then he turns his attention to the small shrine in one corner of the room. There it is, the amulet; it looks rather unassuming and smaller than Blaine expected, just a gold circle with the phases of the moon depicted on it and two words in the old language that no one speaks anymore: _mãne starvat_ , or something like that. The flickering, dim light of his torch isn't enough to be sure.

His fingers tremble as he reaches toward it, expecting some hidden bell to go off any moment, or a spell that turns him to stone or makes the room fall down around him. But nothing happens when he touches it—nothing at all, in fact, for he can't lift it, can't take it away. For a moment he panics, breath coming fast, his blood pounding in his ears, until he remembers something he's read, and takes out his dagger and cuts his palm. Blood drops down on the amulet, and he smears his hand with it, and he can take the amulet and nothing happens: he has the right blood, he has the right to it.

He tucks it into his shirt, picks up his little bag of money, and leaves, nodding to the guards as they lock behind him and push back the heavy bars.

He makes it back to his rooms, although his heart is beating fast and he expects someone calling him back at any moment.

Sam is waiting for him, together with his dinner that is half gone by the time he gets there. Still chewing, Sam tells him,

“You are to report an hour before sunup or they'll sail without you. Also, despite the outrageous price I paid for your barge, you're expected to lend a hand when the need arises. Comes with traveling as a lowly merchant's apprentice instead of a prince.”

Blaine nods and pulls over his plate, though as he tries to eat, the food tastes like ashes in his mouth. Tears burn behind his eyes, and he pushes the plate away and takes out the small money bag he has filled in the treasury. He pushes it toward Sam.

“That's for you. For you and Mercedes, and the family you will have together.”

Sam takes it, opens it, and his eyes go wide. “I can't accept that.”

“You can. It's my father's, not mine, and I actually had his permission to take it.”

“But you'll need it on your travels.”

“I have enough.” Sam doesn't know that where he's going, he won't need money, though he has packed enough to deal with any immediate needs for the two months the journey will take.

Sam takes the bag. “Girl or boy, my firstborn will be named after you,” he promises.

Blaine smiles as the first tear rolls down his cheek. “I'll miss you,” he says, his voice breaking.

“I'll miss you, too.” Sam takes a bottle out of his pack. “Get drunk with me?”


	3. Chapter 3

There it is, his ship, gently rocking while still securely tied to the dock. 'New Directions' she is called, and it fits, because as soon he goes on board, his life will take a new direction, if not one he would like.

It's still dark, only the barest shimmer of light on the horizon, but there is a bustle of activity as the ship is loaded and prepared by torchlight. Sailors run up and down the narrow ramp with sure steps, carrying boxes and barrels and bags aboard, a few orders are given, but mostly, everyone seems to know what they are supposed to do. Everyone knows their place and their way.

He envies them.

He stands there, watching, wishing with everything in him he didn't have to board, but knowing he must. They won't have noticed he's missing, not yet, but it won't take long now, and he must be on his way.

There's a crash, and a barrel falls down and breaks open, and with a curse, a woman hurries down the ramp and nearly runs him over.

“Watch it,” she says harshly, but makes sure he's standing securely before continuing, all the while berating the sailors who had broken the barrel with the foulest language Blaine has ever heard.

“I'm looking for the captain?” he calls after her, and, “Captain's quarters!” she shouts with a vague gesture in the general direction of the ship.

Slowly and carefully, he walks up the ramp, mindful to not be in the way too much. It sways more than it had looked like from the ground, and for the first time, Blaine worries about getting seasick. Although, he has heard that it made you wish you were dead, so perhaps he should be happy if he is.

He doesn't know his way around a ship. He has barely left the palace ground at all, and he doesn't know how he feels about being somewhere so different, where no one opens doors for him and bows before him or even knows who he is, somewhere he is so completely out of place. Everyone is so busy he feels bad to interrupt their work to ask for directions, but before too long, he stands before the door to the captain's stateroom, takes a deep breath, and knocks.

The man who opens the door is pale and cold and beautiful, with brown, windswept hair and skin that is so fine it belies him ever being out in the open, exposed to the elements. He's wearing tailored clothes in a blue so dark it's almost black.

“You must be our passenger,” the man says. “I'm Captain Hummel.”

“Blaine Anderson,” Blaine says. It's not his real last name; his family has been reigning for too long to have ever needed one. He found the name Anderson in a book. 'Son of man', it means, and he likes that: that's what they are, after all, only men, even if they tend to think of themselves as some kind of deities, lesser in status only to the Moon God himself.

“Your clothes are more sober than your master's,” the captain says.

Blaine has to think for a moment to realize that his master is Sam, and he himself only an apprentice. “Such finery is not for me,” he answers humbly.

“No, it's good. It's much more suited for a sea journey, especially since I can guarantee there will be at least one incident, likely more, where we'll need you to lend a hand.”

“I'll be glad to help,” Blaine says, “though I -”

A sharp rap at the door interrupts him. The door opens at the captain's quiet “Enter”, and the woman who almost knocked Blaine over on the pier comes in.

“Report, captain,” she says.

“Ah,” the captain says, “Santana, this is the man you are losing your bunk to, our passenger, Blaine Anderson. Mr. Anderson, this is my first mate, Santana Lopez. Ms. Lopez' orders are to be treated like mine, that is, they are to be obeyed promptly and without questioning. Even by you, Mr. Anderson, though you are not a member of our crew; our survival may one day depend on your swift obedience.”

“I understand,” Blaine says.

“Captain, loading is finished. A keg of salt fish is spoiled, spilled on the pier. Everything else went well.”

The captain nods. “Thank you. Please leave us, Santana, and have breakfast brought for two. I have something to talk about with Mr. Anderson.”

Suddenly, Blaine is nervous. He is by no means safe from discovery. It may yet be he is caught and brought back to the castle, where he'll likely be a prisoner until the day he'll make the same journey he is attempting now, just on a royal barge and heavily guarded.

He doesn't want that. His plan aside, he wants these last few weeks of absolute freedom, the most freedom he's ever known, free from the obligations and duties that come with being a prince, free even from the expectations that come just from people knowing who he is.

“Will – will we be on our way soon, captain?” he asks, and the captain smiles.

“Listen, and feel,” he says, and Blaine listens, and feels.

The swaying of the ship feels different, and there is a creaking in the planks that wasn't there before. He steps to the tiny window: they are already a good bit away from the pier, and there is nobody there who looks like he is looking for Blaine.

They are moving. He is on his way.

There is another knock on the door, and Blaine steps away from the window as a boy comes in, carrying a tray.

“Thanks,” the captain says. “My cabin boy, Myron. Myr, this is our passenger. He'll be staying in the first mate's stateroom. You'll have to clear up there, too.”

The boy places the tray on the table, salutes, and leaves. The captain gestures at one of the chairs and sits down himself.

“I feel bad,” Blaine says. “I didn't realize I would inconvenience you so much by traveling with you.”

The captain shrugs. “It's true we don't take passengers very often, but your master pays us very well, and there really isn't too much we'll be doing differently, as you will doubtlessly come to notice sooner than you'd like. None of us will be any worse for the experience after the end of the journey.”

None but me, Blaine thinks, but he nods and at the captains invite, starts eating. The food is plenty and very good, but the captain assures him that it won't stay that way, and he'll have his share of hardtack soon enough. The conversation is pleasant, and the captain is, though slightly aloof, friendly and lively enough to make Blaine forget his fear and resentment for moments at a time. But when they have finished eating, the captain leans back in his chair, and Blaine senses a change in the atmosphere of the room.

“You're old for an apprentice,” the captain states matter-of-factly, and Blaine thinks he might feel offended were he really an apprentice of any kind.

“Well, if all goes well, I'll be made journeyman when I get back,” he says and tries to smile humbly.

“When you get back from where?” the captain asks, and Blaine senses that they are now getting to the heart of the matter. He takes a deep breath. This may yet fail.

“As I said,” the captain continues with a slight frown, “your master paid us...exceptionally well, and I do have a reputation as a rather adventurous sailor to uphold. But you will understand that it is hard to set a course when one doesn't know the destination. So, where are we going?”

“The Moon Isle,” Blaine says. The captain looks up sharply, and Blaine continues talking just to postpone his response. “I know that it's not a common destination, I know that there is no port there and the current can be tricky.”

“Thus the money,” the captain interrupts, and Blaine nods.

“I understand if you don't want to go there.”

“Why the Moon Isle? There is nothing there, nobody to trade with. And why the need for secrecy? Why not ask me right away when your master negotiated your passage?”

Fortunately, he and Sam have made up a whole back story for Sam's merchant persona. It was much more fun to do that than to dwell on Blaine's apprentice persona, and the fact that he'd be gone when he'd need to play it. He takes a sip from his tea and in his mind, he raises a glass of something much stronger to Sam and his kindness and imagination that never seemed to end.

“You may remember that my master is very young to have his own business,” he says, and the captain nods. “He inherited early. And he....feels the need to prove to everyone he is capable of leading the business, as there are many who doubt him because of his youth. It makes him more adventurous, and maybe a little more paranoid. He has received word that on the Moon Isle there grow herbs ob great medical value. My job is to collect samples, to see if they can be grown elsewhere and sold. The secrecy is because he feared that word might get out and someone else would get there before him.”

The narrowing of the captain’s blue eyes tells him he's not entirely believed, but a moment later, the captain nods, then pushes away from the table and rises.

“If you'll excuse me, I have to get to work. I'll show you your room, and then I have to set a course for the Moon Isle that also lets us stop at our usual ports so we don't lose any business.”

* * *

 

As expected, his room is tiny, with just enough space for a narrow bunk and a table that's bolted to the floor. There are hooks on the wall for his things and a small window with a good look on...well, the sea, and nothing else. He is told he has free move of the ship, so he makes use of that and heads out on deck to watch the city get smaller and smaller, to feel the wind in his hair and to smell the salt air. He feels exhilarated. He has never left the city before, and this is an adventure. It will end in his death, but it is an adventure, and he's never had one before. For a moment, with the spray on his skin and the endless sea before his eyes, he is happy.

He finds the sailors a friendly bunch, if mostly too busy to do anything but smile at him, but those whose jobs are coiling lines or mending canvas are happy to answer his questions and tell stories of their former voyages that he suspect are as much sailor's yarn as the truth. At one point, he pulls out his lute, and is greeted with much excitement and a smile even from the captain, standing with Santana, who is at the wheel as they discuss their course.

He plays until his fingers don't want to move anymore. The lute has never been his favorite instrument and it isn't his best, but he has never had such an audience before, never has his efforts appreciated so much.

The day passes quickly and pleasantly, and it is only in the evening, when he is lying on his bunk and turning the amulet between his fingers, that he is reminded of his fate. He holds the amulet closer, reading the inscription in the light of his small lamp. _Mãne starvat_. He wonders what it means, but in the end, it doesn't matter. It wouldn't change anything.

At some point, he sleeps.

He dreams of a lake, dark, deep waters that engulf him, and instead of the moon's reflection, there is the pale face of Captain Hummel catching him as he sinks into the abyss.


	4. Chapter 4

There is a knock on the door just as Blaine finishes dressing. It's Myron, the cabin boy.

“The captain invites you to break your fast with him,” he says, salutes, and leaves.

Blaine is surprised, but glad. He had feared that with the lies that the captain had obviously seen through, he wouldn't want any more to do with him than whatever are necessary relations between the captain of a vessel and his passenger. And he had found he liked the captain; at the very least, he is well-traveled and would know many a story to tell.

He steps in front of the tiny mirror to make sure his jacket is straight and all the buttons done correctly. The captain had been impeccably dressed yesterday, and Blaine doesn't want to appear slovenly in comparison.

“Ah, Mr, Anderson,” the captain greets him. “Please sit down. I hope you don't mind I started eating already; I must confess I was rather hungry.”

“Please, call me Blaine,” Blaine says, blushing. Mr. Anderson isn't his name, he has never been called anything but Blaine or your highness. Everything else seems strange.

“I suppose it would be strange to be so formal with each other since we'll be traveling together for some time,” the captain says. "Then you must call me Kurt. Only when we're alone, though, please.”

“Of course,” Blaine says. He understands the captain must keep his authority in front of the crew at all times. And Blaine...he likes the implication that there might be other breakfasts, other times he might be alone with the captain—with Kurt.

When they've eaten, Kurt shows him a map—a chart, he says the ones that show the sea are called—and shows him where they are and where they will be going. Then, his finger taps a spot on the chart:

“That's the Moon Isle,” he says. “When you've finished there, we'll take the long way -”, his finger swipes across the chart in a wide arc, “- back home.”

Blaine nods, but his good mood is gone. He won't be taking the long way home, he won't be taking any way home, and suddenly, the way to the Moon Isle seems way to short. He can see it on the chart, it's a space barely two hands wide, and who knows how much of that they've already gone? He wants to suggest taking the long way to the Moon Isle instead, but it would be suspicious: he is supposed to travel on business for his master who would surely not be glad if it took too long. And there is another thing:

“I need to be on the Isle at full moon,” he says. “Some of the herbs only bloom then.”

The captain narrows his eyes again, but nods. “We'll do our best....if we miss it, you can camp on the island and we'll pick you up again later.”

Blaine leaves soon after, embarrassed that once again, he was discovered lying, though again, fortunately not called out on it.

* * *

 

He discovers early that he loves sea life. He continues playing the lute to an appreciative audience, and in time finds the courage to sing, as well. The sailors teach him new songs, and sometimes they sing with him. Very rarely, the captain does, too. His voice is like a bell, high and clear.

When he isn't playing music, he is learning all kinds of seafaring tasks from those sailors who aren't too busy to talk to him. He loves sitting cross-legged on the deck, practicing knots or doing some other task that renders his hands sore and sometimes bleeding, but his mind clear. He is able to forget, sometimes for hours, why he is here and how his journey will end, and in the tiny space of his room or the ship itself that he can cross in a few steps, with nothing but the endless sea around them, he feels as free as he never had before.

The captain continues to invite him for breakfast, and after only a week, he makes it a standing invitation so Myron won't have to fetch him every morning. They come to a sort of silent agreement concerning his story: both of them know he's lying, but they don't talk about it and don't let it come between them. It seems the captain has accepted there are things Blaine can't be truthful about. He's not happy about it; sometimes Blaine can see him looking at him with narrowed eyes, on the verge of speaking, but he lets it slide when he remains silent and looks away.

They talk about everything and nothing, often spending time after the end of their meal just talking until the captain must hurry to his duties. After a while, Blaine notices that neither of them ever talks about their families or their past. The closest he gets is when he confesses that he wishes he was born to a seafaring family; he knows a lot of sailors start out as cabin boys or girls on their parents' ship, and work their way up through the ranks. The captain just shrugs, so Blaine asks him how he came to captain the _New Direction_.

“Some years back,” Kurt says, “I found myself with nothing to do, so I acquired a ship and hired a crew, and sailed. I found it suits me, so I stuck to it.”

“You...acquired...a ship? And you captained it, without knowing anything about captaining, or..navigation...?” He knows more about sailing now that he did when he first came on board, but he has no idea what knowledge is required to captain a ship.

Kurt shrugs again. “I'm a fast learner, and I have many talents.”

Blaine feels that he'll say nothing more about it, and senses that maybe Kurt has his secrets, too.

But Kurt grins at him, and says. “I know what you're thinking, and I did not.”

“Did not what?”

“Steal that ship. I'm not a pirate, you know.”

Blaine keeps wondering about that, more than he probably should have, and even more time he spends imagining Kurt as a pirate. It's not a big stretch of the imagination, as little as he knows about pirating and sea fare in general. He gives him a rapier and a dagger, and once an eye patch which he removes quickly because it would be a shame to cover up even one of those stunning blue eyes. He's dashing, and brave, and only steals from those who deserve it. Once, in a particularly embarrassing daydream, the victims are his own family, and pirate Captain Hummel rescues young, handsome Prince Blaine from the grasp of his scheming parents. He blushes and looks around even though no one knows he just imagined himself as a damsel in distress, and quickly goes to join Santana at the wheel. He's trying to learn navigation, and she will mock him enough for his failures in that to make up for that dream.

It fits his other dreams, though. Every night in his bunk, he stares at his amulet, discovering more details in the light of his only lamp. And every night, as he sinks into sleep, he sinks into the cold, dark waters of the moon lake, and he sees the captain's face in the water, and strong arms enclose him and pull him down, deep, deeper into the lake. Only it doesn't feel like drowning. It feels like he is being saved.

* * *

 

Towards the end of his second week on board, when he has found his sea legs and has even ventured into the rigging once or twice, he is sitting in the galley with Puck, the second mate, drinking thin coffee and playing a game of cards. Puck is at the end of his watch, but not quite tired enough to sleep; Blaine is looking for some sort of occupation that will keep him out of the wind and the ceaseless rain, but also out of his cabin where he'd only be brooding.

The rain is the only thing he'd mind if he were a sailor, he thinks. He'd cope with little sleep and less privacy, a lot of work and boring and repetitive tasks. But being outside in the rain when it is like this, not strong, but persistent and seemingly unending, drenching everything until he feels like he might never be warm and dry again, only cold, cold like the waters of the Moon Lake...

He wonders what it is that will kill him: the blood flowing from his slit wrists, the cold seeping into his very being, or the water, stealing the air from his lungs. He shivers, clutches his coffee harder, lets the thin heat warm his fingers as they tremble from imagined cold.

The ship lurches, but he doesn't know if it's real.

Then a bell rings, sharp and loud, followed by the piercing shout, “All hands on deck! All hands on deck!”

Puck puts his mug away and claps him on the shoulder: “All hands means you, too, buddy.”

Blaine nods, and rises. He knows he has paled, and his legs feel like jelly under him as he climbs the steep steps to the deck. But he is determined to do what he can to help the situation, whatever it is – or at the very least, not be in the way too much.

When he comes up, he doesn't believe his eyes. It's late afternoon, he knows that, but it's so dark it could as well be midnight. The wind is howling, and the ship moves so that he's amazed he hasn't felt it more below. The sea...doesn't look like the sea anymore. It has become a howling, snarling beast that attacks them with waves so high they threaten to crash down on them with a force destroying everything.

“Sails down!” a voice yells, and Blaine jumps to help or at least scramble out of the way as the crew rushes to do what must be done so they might at least have some chance of survival.

The next hours pass in a daze. He goes where he's bid, does as he's told, and goes on and on, rarely feeling how bone-deep tired he is, or his hands that are sore and bleeding and burning from salt.

He holds fast to the railing when he walks and does most of the work one handed while clinging to a rope or a beam to avoid being swept overboard. After a while, he notices the others tying themselves to wherever they're working, and he does the same, although he doesn't really trust his knots yet. But the work is easier, and he feels a little more safe. Still, his heart beats so loud he seems to hear it even over the howling of the wind, the crashing of the waves, and the orders being shouted across the ship.

Then there's another sound: a mighty crack, and unbelieving, he sees the main mast break and fall. It crashes on the deck, and Blaine is nearly thrown overboard from the rocking of the ship.

That's it, he thinks. He won't have to go to the Moon Isle to drown, he can do it right here, he will go down with the ship and everyone on it. He feels sad at the thought of the crew and their gentle captain perishing like that, but at least, he won't die alone. The amulet will be gone, too, into the depths of the ocean, but there will be no blood, there will be no full moon to ease the passing, to maybe renew the magic long enough so Cooper can be king and make everything right.

But, miraculously, the ship holds. There's no hole in the deck, they're not taking water, and though they are rudderless without mast and sails, they're still alive when, at nightfall, the storm eases and then stops.

The great, gray clouds dissolve, and he can see the stars, and then the moon, smiling down on them.

 


	5. Chapter 5

He doesn't even know how he got into his bed. He sleeps deep and, for once, dreamless, and has only a sparing thought for those of the sailors who are just as tired as he is, but whose watch is still on. In the morning, as he looks out the window, he is greeted by a cloudless sky and the sun glittering on a perfectly smooth sea, but as he gets dressed, yesterday's events come back to him. The mast has fallen. Even he knows that's not good, and they are in the middle of the ocean. There had been no land anywhere, not that he remembers, no port to shelter them, broken as they are. He has no idea what will happen now. Will they be unable to move forward? Will they perish once their supplies run out? Maybe there are oars...

He steps outside, unsure about where to go. Surely there won't be breakfast with Kurt today.

On his way up, though, he nearly runs into Kurt. He has to look twice to recognize him. Kurt looks awful. He's still wearing yesterday's clothes, which are stained with salt and torn in places. He is unshaven, and there are rings under his eyes. He looks older and thinner and worn.

“Blaine,” he says. He sounds tired and hoarse, as if speaking is an effort. “I would request your assistance. We need to negotiate repairs, and your experience as a merchant can only help us. Will you accompany me?”

“Sure, but -”

“Excellent. I only need a few minutes to change.”

Then he's gone, and Blaine is standing on the steps, utterly confused. Accompany him where? Negotiate with whom? And should Kurt really go anywhere? He looks like he's about to drop any second.

Blaine continues up on deck, and sees ships, and docks, and behind, the harbor of a bustling town.

“How...”

They had been in the middle of nowhere yesterday, he's sure of it. How did they get here?

He still stands there, aghast, when Kurt reappears. He is freshly shaven and wearing new clothes that are a bit sharper even than what he's usually wearing, in dark blue with hidden sliver accents that sparkle when he moves. He even has done something to hide the circles under his eyes. They're still there, but not as apparent.

“How...?” Blaine repeats, gesturing helplessly at the port spreading out before them.

“I told you I have hidden talents.” Kurt's smile looks tired, but it's there, and it gives Blaine courage. Then Kurt looks at him, worried. “Your hands. They need cleaning, and bandaging. You should have come to me or to Quinn for it yesterday.”

Blaine looks at his hands. They're filthy with dried blood, and now that he sees them, he notices how much they ache from a thousand little wounds, and salt water burning in all of them.

“I was so tired,” he says. “I never noticed.”

He expects to go to Quinn, the ship's doctor, but she is busy with others who are scraped or bleeding, and Kurt takes his arm and makes him sit. Quickly he goes to steal some of Quinn's supplies and then sits down next to Blaine, taking one of his hands and starting to clean it with swift, gentle touches. Blaine holds his breath and takes care not to look at Kurt. He needs all his concentration to stop his fingers from closing around Kurt's.

* * *

Later, they descend a step ladder down the hull of the ship into a boat waiting for them that rocks alarmingly when Blaine sets foot in it. A sailor rows them ashore, something Kurt could easily have done himself, as he explains, but like the flashy clothes, it's for appearances' sake. He has to be every inch the captain, even more so than in front of his crew, to get what he wants.

“Santana,” Kurt calls up to the first mate, who promptly appears at the railing, “organize shore leave. They've earned it.”

“Aye, captain!” Santana salutes with a wide grin. Blaine guesses she has something to look forward to on shore.

 

Blaine is a little scared, but he soon sees there is no need. He may not be a merchant with experience in negotiating, but he can be charming if he wants to, and he is very obviously used to getting what he wants. People react to that, and if Kurt is surprised that Blaine has to ask him the usual cost for a service, he doesn't show it.

The repairs they need are many. Blaine doesn't understand half of it, but he sees that nothing of it will be done today. At a late lunch after the first round of their errands is done, he asks Kurt about it.

“When will we be able to go on? It seems like all of this is going to need a long time.”

“Well, thanks to you, it will be faster than I feared, but yes, it will be one week at the very least, more likely two.”

Blaine slumps down in relief. It's almost as if his journey is only starting now, but with him already comfortable with sea life and the crew and most of all, the captain. He gets a week or two longer with them. He is so thankful he could weep.

Kurt misunderstands his reaction. “I'm sure your master will understand. There's nothing as unpredictable as the sea, and when he negotiated your passage, I told him that the time needed is only an estimate.”

“Yes.” Blaine nods. “I'm sure you're right.

 

They need the rest of the day for their errands, ordering supplies of food that has been destroyed or spoiled during the storm, and ordering fresh water and refills for their first aid cabinet that has been sadly depleted by all the thankfully minor injuries that were to care for. Blaine looks at his bandaged hands and shudders. It could have been so much worse. He remembers his thoughts when he thought they would all die, that at least he'd not die alone. He's profoundly ashamed of that thought. It might be a comfort, he thinks, to know that when he's gone, this ship with its wonderful crew will still be there. Still roaming the ocean, maybe remembering him once in a while.

He has gained a week, or two. He was so happy, but it's so little.

Kurt nudges him. “What's up? You seem...sad.”

Blaine tries a smile. “It's nothing. I just thought how much worse it could have been for us yesterday.”

Kurt nods. “Yes, we were lucky no one was seriously injured or even killed.”

“This morning, I thought we'd be stuck somewhere in the middle of the ocean with no mast, and have to row our way to port,” Blaine tries.

Kurt doesn't even look at him as he nods. “As I said, we were lucky.”

In between their errands, they have time to simply stroll through the city, and Blaine walks with his eyes, ears and nose wide open. It's not so far from home, yet everything is different. It's warmer, so the plants are different, the people are dressed lighter and more colorful, and the houses are built differently from the ones in the capital. The air smells differently, too, never quite losing the tang of the sea, and though the language is the same, it's spoken with a different cadence that, to Blaine's ears, makes it more musical.

At home, he sometimes used to sneak away at night with Sam, to have a drink in a tavern somewhere far away from the castle, and maybe find somebody to warm him for the night. To forget, for just a night. It felt like this, for a bit. but never enough. Never enough.

So maybe it's just that he's walking, in broad daylight, with someone he almost dares call a friend, without anybody batting an eye on him. Without fear of being recognized, of being dragged back to the castle to his duties and responsibilities followed by an early and inevitable death. Maybe it's just that making him so bold.

“Captain,” he says, stepping closer. “Kurt -”

The captain lifts a hand to stop him. It's almost dusk, the sun is low in the sky and the moon has just risen, but it's still light. Blaine can easily see Kurt's frown, the way his whole body is tense like that of a cat ready to pounce on its prey.

“Something's wrong,” he says, and breaks into a run. Blaine has no choice but to follow, to run behind him away from the bustling market into streets that get darker and more empty, until finally they stop, panting, before a house that on the first glance looks like a grand villa. On the second, it's clear that it's just wood painted white, with ornamental pillars that barely hold up the roof of the rickety front porch. Colorful lanterns decorate the steps and, in darkness, might make a good job of concealing the flaking paint and the moldy wood.

On the steps, Santana is fighting a brutish-looking man with a pot belly and more hair on his bare arms than on his head. He is stronger than her, but it's clear that he's already drunk, and he is encumbered by the fact that his pants aren't buckled and keep threatening to slide down whenever he moves. She is quicker, younger, and fighting with real anger and a fierce determination.

On the porch, a fat woman is standing and screaming abuse at the fighters. Her heaving bosom threatens to spill over the cleavage of her dress, and her face is like the house: handsome until one looks too close. On the top step, well away from the screaming woman, a pretty young girl is sitting, scantily clad, with a split lip that's still bleeding and a bruise forming on her cheekbone, but she is smiling as she watches Santana.

That, at least, is what Kurt tells him later. Blaine can barely see a thing, as the fighters have drawn quite a crowd and it's only seconds before, with a voice that somehow rises above the curses of the fat woman and the laughter and cheers of the crowd without ever resorting to a shout, Kurt puts a stop to the whole thing.

“Stop that madness!” he says. “Ms. Lopez, what is the meaning of this?”

Despite the stern tone and the formal address, Santana's face lights up as she sees him. She walks away from the man she was fighting, who has trouble catching his balance and finally loses control over his pants, which drop down around his ankles to the hooting laughter of the crowd. Red-faced, he pulls them up before limping to the fat woman, whispering furiously at her.

Santana pulls up the pretty blonde woman from the steps, and together they walk up to Kurt.

“He was hurting her, sir,” Santana says, and now Blaine can see that it's doubtlessly true. The young woman holds together a torn bodice, and there are traces of tears on her cheeks. Blaine takes off his jacket and puts it around her shoulders. She flinches at his touch, but then nods gratefully.

“She wouldn't stop it,” Santana continues, “and she wouldn't even tell him not to come back.” The hate-filled look she gives the fat woman on the stairs makes it clear who “she” is.

“Do you have the money?” Kurt asks.

Santana looks like she's trying to hold back tears. “No. Almost, but...I have to get her out of here. Please, Kurt. I wouldn't ask if I saw any other way.”

Kurt nods- “Take her to the ship.”

The fat woman starts screaming again as she sees Santana leave with the girl. “She's mine! You can't just steal her!”

“We will settle this tomorrow, madame,” Kurt says in his 'captain' voice, which expects quick and unquestioning obedience. The woman closes her mouth, looking furious.

As they leave, Kurt turns to Blaine and grins.

“Looks like I'm about to become a pirate after all.”


	6. Chapter 6

Of course, the New Directions doesn't turn into a pirate ship, stealing away the beautiful maiden from her jailers. Blaine can imagine it, though, them sailing away, Santana with a protective arm around Brittany's shoulders, looking triumphantly back while the Madame on the quay screams after them.

That would have required them to be seaworthy, with a whole mast and all the supplies they need. As they're not, Kurt returns in the morning, on his own, to buy Brittany free.

He returns with fresh pastries for their breakfast, but he is too angry to eat.

“She was never supposed to work there,” he says through clenched teeth. “Her mother worked in the house, but she fell ill, and after her death, the Madame presented the bills for the doctor and everything else to Brittany. She couldn't pay, of course, so she had to work off the debt, and the Madame kept adding to it, charging her for room and board. Brittany never even had an idea how much she owed, or how long she would belong to the Madame for it.”

He attacks a piece of salt fish with his fork like it's the one to blame. Blaine suspects that the surely not inconsiderable sum Kurt paid to buy Brittany's debt will never be talked about.

“She was supposed to be a dancer. She's good enough for the theater, for court, even. But she never had a chance.”

“She has a chance now,” Blaine points out.

Kurt shakes his head, but he's chuckling now. “She won't dance. She'll stay here, with Santana. They've loved each other for ages, Santana has been saving her pay to buy her free. I'm glad it could be a little sooner than expected, even though the circumstances were less than ideal. But Santana would never have accepted my help otherwise.”

“And now?” Blaine asks. “What will they do now? Where will they go?”

“They'll go nowhere, at least I hope so. I hope Santana will stay as my first mate, and Brittany will find her place here.”

No servant of the royal family is allowed to marry or have a family, lest they be distracted from their service. Blaine has always found that a stupid rule, as he's sure hiding a relationship, which he knows many servants do, is much more of a distraction. It's why he couldn't be at Sam's wedding, which both of them had wished for very much; but Sam couldn't marry as long as he still was Blaine's bodyguard, and he had refused to quit until Blaine left. Kurt's level of acceptance at something that might—surely would—disturb ship routine is nothing less than astonishing.

“Is that...usual?” he asks. What he wants to ask is, Is it usual for you to pick up stray people because one of your crew is in love with them?, and most of all, Is there someone like that for you? He doesn't.

Kurt shakes his head, chuckling. “It's the first time something like this happens. Love...isn't easy to find when you're a sailor. That's why there's the saying of “a guy or girl in every port”. It's not that we don't want someone to belong to, it's more...we're away for months at a time, and we're always in danger. Few people will put up with that. And here...well, there's little privacy on a ship, even if we found someone willing to sail with us.”

“You have your own cabin,” Blaine points out.

Kurt laughs. “Yes, being captain has its perks. Or first mate. Santana has her own cabin as well. Except...”

“For me,” Blaine realizes. “I'm in her cabin. But she needs it. She's with Brittany now, they'll want to have their privacy. I should go sleep with the crew.”

Kurt shakes his head. “Nobody can expect that from you. You're our passenger, you've paid a lot of money. You're entitled to what luxury you can get.”

“But I don't want to be in their way. I know I won't be here long, but -” I want to be, he thinks, I want to be a part of this, “I don't want to be in their way while I am.”

Kurt seems to think. “Then you must take my cabin,” he says eventually.

“No!”

“Why not? It's the only logical conclusion.”

“No. You're the captain, you can't sleep with the crew.”

“Well,” Kurt says, hesitantly. “We could always share.”

“What?”

“Share my cabin. Give Santana and Brittany what privacy they can get—which won't be much, because the walls are thin, but it should be enough to keep Santana from getting cranky, which, believe me, is in everybody's best interest.”

“I don't want to impose.”

“I know. That's what you've done the whole time you've been here, 'not imposing'. But we're a family here, Blaine. And while you are with us, you're part of that family. How could you impose?”

 

As Blaine brings his belongings into the captain’s state room he notices that a pallet has been made up on the floor in a corner of the room. He doesn't know for whom it is intended, but he is determined that he will be the one to sleep on it. All that talk of family is very well, but Kurt is still the captain, and though Blaine may be a prince, he is but a passenger on his ship. He won't take his bed.

He needn't have worried. When he goes to bed that night, he goes into his old room at first, opening the door to Santana and Brittany kissing, lying almost on top of each other on the narrow bunk. Blushing, he quickly and quietly closes the door, thankful Santana had been too preoccupied to notice him. There would be no hiding from her wrath if she had. When he arrives at Kurt's state room, Kurt is already in bed, reading.

Humbled, Blaine gets ready for bed, but he can't help but sneak furtive glances at Kurt in the bed, to see if—well, if he does the same. If he does, Blaine can't see it, and silently, he finally lies down on the pallet and puts the blanket over him.

The pallet is harder than his bunk, but on the other hand, he won't fear to turn in his sleep like he did on the narrow bunk, instinctively afraid to fall. He'll sleep well enough as soon as he can get over the fact that he is in Kurt's room, only a few feet away from him.

He thinks about what he wanted to say to Kurt, the other day before everything with Brittany began. He won't now, the moment is over. He would never find the courage, anyway, not when Kurt didn't even look at him while he undressed.

“Good night,” Kurt says, and turns off the light. He sounds tense, and with regret, Blaine thinks that he's imposing after all. Kurt is used to having his privacy, at least at night, and it must be hard to give up his usual routine because there is suddenly someone else. But it can't be helped. Blaine knows better than to renew that argument.

“Good night,” he answers belatedly, and turns to the wall.

He is sorry the moment has gone, sorry he never tried. It could have been beautiful. Maybe, he hopes but doubts, maybe there will be another moment like this, where he feels so bold, so filled with the feeling of inevitability like yesterday in town, at sundown, before—and. how did Kurt even notice that something was going on? He had just said, “Something's wrong,” and then run off as if he knew where. How did he know?

In the dark, the amulet that's still strung around Blaine's neck seems to glow with a faint light. He pulls it out from under his shirt; the light is cold, white, and barely there, but the amulet has never done that before. It's strange, Blaine thinks, how so often, he is able to forget that he is going to die in a few short weeks, that he will have to leave Kurt and this ship and bleed to death on the moon isle. Then, when he remembers, he is filled with a helpless rage, and grief, and fear. But at night, when there is nothing but him and the darkness, nothing to keep him from his thoughts, he is peaceful. He looks at the amulet and remembers his dreams about the lake, so cold and deep, and how safe he feels when he sinks into it.

Now, though, as he turns the amulet in his hands, Blaine has increasingly the feeling that he is missing something. He feels like he should know what the words mean, the words his thumb is tracing over and over again: _Mãne starvat_. He feels they are important. But the amulet is a thousand years old, and for hundreds of them, the language of the words engraved in it has been forgotten. Blaine had thought there would be books on it, or even just notes, but there's nothing in the royal library that even hints at the ancient language. It's almost as if it's been wiped out deliberately.

Something to do with the moon, maybe. Certainly, almost, but that doesn't help him—what would an inscription on an amulet dedicated to the Moon God be about other than the moon? Something important, too, or they wouldn't have engraved it.

He's still thinking as he sinks into sleep.

He isn't sure what wakes him. It's still night and almost completely dark, but he can see that Kurt's bed is empty. He can't sleep with me here, Blaine thinks guiltily, and rises to find Kurt and make some other arrangement.

Kurt is standing on deck, staring into the night. The moon is bright in the sky, and despite the sailors working the ship, it's quiet enough that Blaine can hear the light splashing of the waves against the hull.

He whispers in order to not disturb the night. “I'm sorry,” he says. “You couldn't sleep, I should find somewhere else...”

“No.” Kurt turns towards him, shakes his head. "It wasn't because of you. I'm not much of a sleeper. I'm sorry I woke you.”

“You- you don't sleep?”

“Not at night. I usually lie down for a few hours after breakfast. I meant to warn you.”

“So why did you go to bed at all?”

Kurt shrugs. “It's what we do, isn't it? When it's night, we go to bed. Usually I read for a time and then rise and come here. Watch the night, the ship. Make sure we get where we want to go.” He laughs a little, shrugs again. “I like the night. It's quiet.”

“Then I won't disturb you any longer.”

As Blaine turns to go, though, Kurt calls after him. “Blaine. Maybe you should sleep somewhere else.”

“Of course,” Blaine says with a sinking heart. “If you want me to.”

Kurt puts out his hand. “I think you should sleep in my bed. With me.”


	7. Chapter 7

Blaine has never had any problems finding a lover. It was some hassle sneaking out of the castle into the city to where he could find someone, but once he was there...

Sam, once they had had a relationship where he could risk offending the prince, had sometimes called him a slut for taking his pleasures where he found them. Sam himself was always head over heels for someone, falling for one love of his life after the other, and Blaine had never been able to explain to him why love was never even part of the bargain for him. There has never been the possibility for him to grow old with someone, like it had come for Sam once Mercedes was part of his life, because Blaine would not grow old.

Now, as he is lying in Kurt's bed, with Kurt's lips trailing over his body, he feels the irony. Sam would laugh at him: the first man he feels anything more for than fleeting attraction, and it happens now?

“What's the matter?” Kurt asks, lifting his head.

“Nothing,” Blaine says. “I'm fine.”

“You...do want this, don't you?”

Blaine nearly laughs. How could he not want this? He has never felt as alive as he does now. It's this ship and the endless sea around him, it's the wind and the salty air and the water that sprays his face every time he goes on deck. It's the easy, almost effortless friendship he has formed with some of the crew. And it's Kurt.

He pulls him up and kisses him like he has never kissed anyone before. And now it's Kurt's lips on his, his tongue in his mouth, the stubble of his beard against his cheeks. It's his hands on his skin, his thigh between his legs, his sigh in his ear.

There's nothing about this that Blaine doesn't want.

Except the end.

His touch, his kisses are laced with despair, he knows that. He tries to take everything now while he can. It makes his hands fly over Kurt's body, makes him kiss him like he wants to devour him, makes him want to do everything at once.

Of course, Kurt notices, and once again he looks at him with a question in his eyes. This time, he doesn't ask, though. He presses Blaine back against the bed, forcing him into stillness, and smiles.

“Let me, please?” he says, and Blaine nods, lies back, and tries to relax.

It's not hard to get distracted from his thoughts when Kurt is touching him like this, kissing him like this. When his lips wander over bis neck, his throat, leaving a trail of fire that makes the amulet against his chest glow cold in comparison.

The amulet that is displayed proudly in the royal temple, that everyone knows. That marks him clearly as a thief, if not as a member of the royal family.

Panic ties his throat, and he gasps, sits up and hits Kurt's hands away, every good feeling instantly wiped out by the crushing fear he suddenly feels.

“I'm—I'm sorry,” he whispers through the lump in his throat. His skin feels too tight, the room seems to crowd him, and he hastily pushes Kurt away completely. “I can't...”

“It's okay,” Kurt says, reaches a tentative hand out to touch him. But Blaine can't be touched, not now, and so he flees, jumps from the bed and runs out of the room, up into the night.

The sailors on duty glance at him as he walks past, but no one tries to talk to him, and he is thankful for that. He goes to where Kurt stood earlier, stands in the prow and stares into the darkness, his hands on the railing wrapped so tight it hurts.

It's clear now that he can't do this. It would be no use to just take off the amulet; this is more than that. His attempts at a normal life have always failed sooner or later, and at some point he has realized that a normal life usually involves planning for the future. And even now, in the last weeks, when everything is coming to an end, he can't let go long enough to have Kurt for himself for a moment.

It would have been nice, to have that.

He probably lost his friendship, too, pushing him away like that when before, he had enthusiastically agreed to everything they were about to do. Kurt doesn't deserve to be treated like that, and Blaine can understand if he wants nothing to do with him anymore, wants to avoid him as far as possible on the ship.

It doesn't matter. None of it matters, in the end.

There's a not-quite touch on his back, and as he turn, there is Kurt, his hand an inch or so above his shoulder, as if uncertain.

“I'm not sleeping, anyway,” Kurt says, “so you might as well take the bed.”

“I doubt I will be sleeping tonight,” Blaine says, turning back so he won't have to look at Kurt. “Kurt, I'm -”

He remembers they're not alone, although the sailors work quietly and none of them is where they could hear him. still, he corrects himself. “Captain, I'm sorry. I should -”

“Not now,” Kurt interrupts. “We'll talk tomorrow, okay? Breakfast, as usual?”

“Really?” Blaine says. He can barely believe Kurt doesn't seem to hold a grudge. “You still want to-”

“Tomorrow,” Kurt says firmly. His hand finally settles on Blaine's shoulder, but Blaine doesn't flinch from the touch. “You should go to bed now.”

Blaine nods shakily, and reluctantly turns around to go back down to the stateroom. Woodenly, he lies down on the bed, but when he turns and smells Kurt's cent that lingers on the sheets, he calms. He imagines Kurt standing there, watching over them, making sure they go where they mean to, and ironically, he feels safe. He sinks into sleep quickly, fearlessly.

* * *

 

Blaine is almost giddy with relief when he sits down to have breakfast with Kurt. He has lost a lot yesterday, but he has not lost Kurt's friendship: this thing, that has become so important to him in only a short period of time, is still there. Breakfast itself, however, is awkward. Whatever he had wanted to say yesterday when Kurt wouldn't let him; now he is silent. He nibbles at his food, sips his drink without tasting anything, and looks down on his plate, only occasionally lifting his eyes to share an awkward smile with Kurt, who finally clears his throat.

“About yesterday...I think I may have....overwhelmed you. I'm not used to....courting someone. I don't like visiting brothels, not since I've known Brittany's story, and...with shore leave being so short usually, I have to be—quick about...”

Blaine nods. He understands. He's had to sneak out of the castle often enough, bound to be back long before sunup so he wouldn't be found out. A glance often had to be enough, a bed in an inn everything he and his chosen partner ever saw of each others' lives. Everything started and finished in a night, a whole circle of courtship, fulfillment and separation in the course of a few hours.

“No,” he says. “I wasn't expecting to be courted, and I wasn't overwhelmed. This had...surprisingly little to do with you.” He shakes his head, takes Kurt's hand over the table. “I'm saying this wrong. Just...I wanted everything yesterday. I did. It just seems that...I'm not in a place in my life right now where I can take a lover, even just for a few weeks. Even just for a night.”

Kurt looks pensive, and sad. “Look, I know you haven't told me everything about why you're on this journey. I know you probably can't talk about it, but if you want...if there is anything I can do to help...”

“I'd tell you everything if I could, Kurt, but I can't. I promised. I'm sorry...about everything.”

All of this is true. He has promised his father not to tell anyone about the sacrifice, but he doesn't care about that. What he can't face is what he knows Kurt would do: try to talk him out of it, try to find ways around Blaine dying, find some other solution. When Blaine knows there isn't one, when he has tried everything out in his mind and has done little else than think about a way out for years, for six miserable years. When he still isn't quite resigned to dying.

The rest of their breakfast is silent and awkward, though they take care to smile at each other so they know no one holds a grudge. When it's over, Blaine leaves so Kurt can sleep, and wishes desperately for the privacy of his own room so he can cry in peace.

* * *

 

They're stuck in the harbor for eight more days, carpenters hammering from dawn to dusk. The crew are impatient to be on their way, and Kurt can't sleep well because of all the noise, so he's testy and irritable, sometimes rivaling Santana in the abuse he shouts at the sailors who think being in port means they can slack in their duties.

And Blaine, who had been so relieved at the delay, resents it now. His attempt at a normal life has once more gone wrong, and once more, he tells himself to learn to accept it. There is nothing for him here. When he stands at the railing at the far side from port and looks at the sea, he doesn't see freedom anymore. It's just an illusion to taunt him with what he can never have. He is not free. And if he has to die, let it be soon.

 

Kurt and Blaine continue to break their fast together every morning, but the meals are not as enjoyable as they used to be. Blaine is silent and morose, brooding over is coffee, and Kurt is simply too tired to offer much in the way of conversation, though Blaine is aware that it would take a lot to cheer him up now. He also fears, and he thinks Kurt does too, that the way things are at the moment, a wrong word might set them both off, destroying what is left of their tentative friendship.

After their silent meals, Kurt lies down to try and snatch some sleep, and Blaine takes to go into town to escape the confines of the ship that now again only emphasizes how much he doesn't belong there. He takes no pleasure in his strolls except the knowledge that he's giving Kurt what privacy he can, and avoids being in the way.

He just walks aimlessly, looking at the buildings and the goods in the market without really seeing them, the exotic sights ans smells holding no appeal anymore. The world has gone dull and gray once more, and it's even more cruel now that he's had a taste of how rich and colorful it can be.

At night, ironically, is when he finds peace. He used to fear nighttime when he would be left alone with his thoughts, but now he almost yearns for it, knowing it is the only time when his thoughts will stop rotating in his head. He has had to wrap the amulet in a kerchief because it glows so much it can be seen through his shirt, but at night, alone in Kurt's cabin, in Kurt's bed, with the knowledge that Kurt is out there in the night, he unwraps it and looks at it.

It's beautiful now, glowing with a faint cold light like the moon itself. Blaine is past wondering why it glows, or what the obscure words of the inscription mean, or at least he tells himself it's no use wondering because he will never find out. In truth, the thought keeps nagging at him in the back of his mind, that he is missing something, that this is important. It's not enough to keep him from falling asleep, though, and when he does, every night he feels himself sinking into the deep cool waters of the moon lake, and they feel like Kurt's arms.

Still, he keeps wishing for their journey to continue, for him to move towards his goal again. For however reluctant he might be to reach it, when he does, all of this will finally be over.

On the sixth day, during his lonely stroll through the town, he is reminded that there are other reasons to wish for speed.


	8. Chapter 8

He is wandering along the quay, trying to find some enjoyment in the sunny day or a speck of interest in the bustle of the port, when something actually catches his eye. It's a soldier in the blue-and-gold uniform of the royal guard, talking to someone of the city watch, showing him something. Blaine can't see well enough what, but he doesn't need to; he knows with ice-cold certainty that it's him, that it's a portrait of the missing prince. The guard is in the garish colors of the city's uniform; the bright yellow and orange has it made hard for Blaine to take them seriously as soldiers before. Now, he sees the blade sheathed at the guard's side, and he knows it's enough to take him if they find him.

He has been careless.

He thought they couldn't openly look for the amulet, because they can't have it known that it's missing, but he has forgotten that they can look for him.

He tries to think. The portrait will be bad, because it will have been done from memory; no one ever bothered to paint his likeness while he was actually there. He should be safe enough in the city, at least for now, if he takes care not to go to the same place too often.

The ship is another matter. He doesn't like to think of it, the crew are his friends. But if there is a reward—and if the reward is big enough...he just doesn't know. He needs the ship; he won't find another one to take him where he must go.

He vows that, at the very least, whatever happens, they won't get the amulet. He will throw it into the sea if he has too; if need be, he will throw himself right behind. It won't help Cooper, but it's better than giving himself and the amulet over into their hands.

But they haven't found him yet. There is still hope.

He walks back. Walks, doesn't run, even though he feels like it. He doesn't even turn up the collar of his cloak.

On the ship, he seeks out Kurt, who is standing at the wheel with Santana. Blaine would rather he be alone, but it can't be helped.

“Captain,” he says, “I put myself under your protection.”

“Come to my state room,” Kurt says, though he is all captain now, so even Santana doesn't question any of this.

 

Blaine feels he should be panting, or crying, or throwing himself at Kurt's feet. He doesn't; he goes down the stairs in measured steps, then sits down with measured movements across Kurt at the big chart table in the state room.

Kurt doesn't say anything, just looks at him expectantly, so Blaine finally clears his throat.

“I'm not a criminal,” he says, “not really, but...I'm not a merchant, either. As you've probably guessed.”

Kurt nods silently.

“People are looking for me. But they can't find me. There's more than my life at stake.”

Kurt nods again. The questions he asks are not the ones Blaine is dreading. “Is it a person or persons looking for you, or an official institution?”

Blaine snorts. It's the crown. “I think you could call it an institution.”

“I'm afraid I don't have the authority to protect you from prosecution.”

“Kurt,” Blaine pleads, desperate. “I have to be go to the Moon Isle. It's a matter of -”

“However,” Kurt interrupts with a grin, “They can't get you if they can't find you. You will have to hide for as long as we are anchored here. I will try to speed up the proceedings, and when we're afloat again, we will go as fast as we can.”

Blaine hesitates, but he has to ask. “There might be a reward. Won't the crew -?”

“I told you before, we are a family here. Nobody will jeopardize that for a few coins. I vouch for them.”

The promise has to be enough. There's no possibility in the close quarters of the ship for the crew not to detect something's different. Kurt has Santana tell the crew not to reveal Blaine's location to anyone; he seems to think the mere order is enough. Blaine takes comfort in the knowledge that Santana will have elaborated with a few colorful threats.

 

They find him a place in the hold, so hidden behind their cargo Blaine wouldn't have known the nook was even there. It's cramped and uncomfortable. He has enough room to lie down with his knees drawn up, and he can sit but not stand. However, it's only for a few days, until they are finally ready to go, and as long as the coast is clear, he can walk in the hold.

As he lies down on his thin pallet, he can't sleep. Whatever it was that used to calm him before, that made his nights so peaceful, that made slipping into sleep seem like sinking into a lover's embrace, doesn't work anymore. Blaine is agitated, he tosses and turns in the tight space. He can't take out the amulet as he is wont to, because it shines so brightly now, and there can't be light in the cargo hold. Not one so white and cold, so different from a candle.

What's more, the ship seems to share his agitation. Even now, unmoving as they are, by day the ship rocks from the comings and goings of workers and delivery men. At night, though, it's usually as still as any house. It had taken him some time to get used to, accustomed as he is now to the constant movement and the way his body shifts to accommodate it.

Tonight, however, the ship rocks almost angrily. This is the emotion he gets from it: anger, and fear. Helplessness. A trapped animal trying to break its bonds. Or maybe they are only his own emotions. But he doesn't imagine the rocking. Voices on deck confirm that the water is wilder than water in a harbor has any right to be, and the ship seems to exaggerate the movement. Sailors come into the hold to adjust shifted cargo before Santana can have their hide for neglecting it so much it even has to be adjusted.

Sighing, Blaine rises and helps. His knots are good now, and though he has no idea how cargo has to be stocked, he can tie it where he is shown.

He would like to go up on deck and stand beside Kurt, keeping watch.

* * *

 

They come the next night, when he has finally fallen asleep. The sea is turbulent again although there is no wind, and Blaine feels troubled. The crew seem to take it as normal, though, and so he tries not to let it worry him. But he also feels restless, tired of the confines of his hiding place after only a day. Puck had come to play cards with him for an hour or so earlier, and this morning, Kurt had surprised him by carrying a tray down and sitting down on the floor to eat with him. But he hasn't done much else, and not talked to anyone else, and so he is glad when it's finally time to go to sleep.

But he is even more agitated than the night before, and the ship is rocking even more, and when he finally falls asleep, he wakes up again with ragged gasps, because this time when he sinks into the Moon Lake, he drowns.

He wakes from footsteps, voices coming down into the hold. It's Kurt, calm and cool and not nearly as sleep-addled as the guards were no doubt hoping he would be as he leads them down, carrying a lantern in one hand.

He lets them look around the hold, a few hands in tow to rearrange the cargo the soldiers move without care for the balance of the load. He is composed as he declares that of course he doesn't harbor any fled princes, that there's nothing in his hold but salt fish and hard tack, as most of his cargo was spoiled in the storm that forced them to stop here.

Blaine is not so calm. He dares not move, even though his legs start falling asleep; he hardly dares breathe. His heart beats so loudly he fears they will hear it, and he feels he is close to dying when a soldier's boot stops only inches from his elbow.

At long last, however, they leave, and he hears Kurt thank them a bit too loudly and almost unnoticeably sarcastic for their visit.

It is still some minutes before he moves, slowly stretching his limbs, gritting his teeth against the needles and pins. He tells his beating heart to slow down, that the danger is over, but it still seems worried, and after a while, he realizes he is too. Because how can he do this? He is endangering Kurt and the crew, all of them. If they had found him—he doesn't know what the punishment would be, but they don't deserve to be brought in this situation.

It can't be helped, though. He is quite aware he has no other options. What he has to do is more important than any one person, or any one ship. He can but hope he won't bring them down with him.

He is sitting on a crate, thinking about going back to sleep, when Kurt comes back. In the light of the lantern Blaine can see he isn't as calm as he seemed; there's a set to his shoulders and in the lines of his face that suggests anger, and fear.

“We might have to cut the repairs short,” he says, rubbing his neck. “Make do with what's done. One of the guards let slip that they'll shut down the harbor in a few days, if you haven't been found. We must be away by then.”

Blaine nods silently

. “Don't you think you owe me an explanation?” Kurt asks, sitting down on the crate beside Blaine. The ship is rocking too much for it to be safe to put the lantern down, so he keeps holding it. The flickering light throws moving, threatening shadows on the walls.

Blaine nods. He doesn't meet Kurt's eyes. “I can't tell you everything, but if you listen, I will tell you as much as I can.”

He shifts uneasily, takes a breath, tries to sort his thoughts and decide what can be told and what can't. He owes Kurt the truth, but he can't tell it, not now. He will tell him as much as he can, and write the rest in a letter before they reach the Moon Isle.

“Those that look for me....they are men of the king,” he says and hears Kurt gasp. “If they catch me, they will bring me back to the capital, and then I will be killed.”

“But why?” Kurt whispers.

“It's nothing I have done, it's because of what I am,” Blaine says. It's as far as he dares to go. The general public knows little about the royal family's worship of the Moon God, and nothing about what keeps them in power. Still, he can't say too much.

“I have also taken...something.” His hand automatically goes to his throat, to the amulet that hangs around his neck, under his shirt, wrapped in a kerchief. It seems to vibrate beneath his touch. “I didn't steal it, technically; it belongs to my family, but they...those who are looking for me, they want it.”

There is a long moment of silence afterwards. Then Kurt sighs and rises. “I will take you to the Moon Isle,” he promises and turns to go.

Blaine has the sinking feeling that this is final, that although their journey will take a few weeks still, this is a farewell.

“Kurt? I'm—I'm sorry.”

Kurt nods and leaves.

 

They stay until mid-afternoon the next day. When the light begins to fade, they dismiss the workers, who pack up their tools and wait to get paid. They hoist anchor as soon as they have left, while the crew is still sweeping the sawdust off the deck. The ship is rocking more than ever, which doesn't make their task any easier, but at nightfall, they are under way, and Blaine dares to come out of the hold. He stands at the railing, breathing in the salty air, looking back at the lights of the city that has so very nearly become a trap. He has escaped, he is safe for now, and he is on the way to his destination, to his destiny. Somehow, though, he feels more lost than ever before.


	9. Chapter 9

They are on the move once more, and Blaine stands at the railing, looking into the direction they're going. Even though he knows it will be some weeks until they reach their destination, he keeps trying to see the Isle of the Moon in the distance, constantly expecting it to rise up on the horizon. He looks to it with equal dread and relief.

The journey has become stranger. During the day, they go at a normal pace, as slow or as fast as the wind lets them, and Blaine can't see much progress as he watches, as around them, once they have left the harbor, there is nothing but the sea. At night, though, they seem independent of the wind. The ship rocks, the sea is wild, and still they go faster than Blaine has ever experienced.

He wants to ask questions, but doesn't. The atmosphere on the ship doesn't seem to allow it.

Everyone is tense, working in silence broken only by sharp, short commands. He hardly sees Kurt. They still share the stateroom, but Blaine is in it at night and Kurt during the day. Breakfasts have stopped, as Kurt goes to sleep as soon as dawn rises, to rest from whatever it is he does at night. Blaine feels more out of place than ever, even at the very beginning of their voyage. And now, he doesn't even have a place he can go to in order to not be in the way and also to not feel quite so very alone, because it becomes more apparent whenever he sees the others working together as a group he can never be part of.

 

But he has forgotten there is one other who is in a similar situation—on the ship, but not part of the crew. He sees Brittany climbing the rigging, quick and nimble and fearless, and sitting far above them with her hair fluttering in the breeze. She looks free and somehow more than human, like a being of the air and the sea without ties to earth.

After a few days of watching, he finds the courage to join her.

His soles have gone supple and leathery from going barefoot, and his palms are work-roughened, but he still has a hard time climbing. The rigging digs into his hands and feet, and it sways and moves the whole time. He is sweaty and terrified by the time he reaches the top, clinging to the ropes for dear life.

“Hi,” Brittany says.

“Hello,” Blaine pants. “Can I...can I join you?”

“Sure.” She even scoots over, without holding on to something.

Blaine sits down slowly, carefully, taking some time to sort his limbs and find what is left of his equilibrium. He looks down once, by accident, and has to swallow. He grabs the ropes so tightly his knuckles are white.

“Oh,” he says. “Oh.”

He is dizzy and scared, and he is scared of being scared. How will he ever manage to cut his own wrists if he can't even face a little height? He can't be afraid of dying. He has to die.

“You look terrified,” Brittany says.

“I am terrified,” Blaine admits.

“So why didn't you stay down there?”

“I don't know. You looked...like you were happy up here. Light, and free. Not really human anymore.” His thoughts sound strange when he says them out loud, but Brittany just smiles.

“I'm not. I'm with Santana now. I'm growing more like her every day.”

Blaine doesn't know what to say to this, so he is silent. He tries to be not so terrified anymore, to sit more comfortably. He looks around, tries to find some of the freedom he thought would be here. It's not there. There's only wind, and sun, the screeching of the seagulls, and Brittany.

“Are you happy to be here?” he asks awkwardly.

She shrugs. “I'm happy I'm with Santana. But she's always sad now.”

“Why is she sad?”

Brittany leans forward, her elbows resting on her thighs. Her legs are swinging. Blaine gets dizzy just from looking at her, and he grips the ropes tighter.

“Because the captain is sad, and angry. That's why the ship is rocking so much at night, and everyone else is sad as well. Particularly Santana.”

“What are you talking about?”

Brittany sighs and looks at him as though he's deliberately obtuse. “The captain and the crew and the ship, they're all one. So if the captain is sad, the crew gets sad, and the ship gets sad.”

Blaine doesn't really understand more than before, so he focuses on the one thing he does understand. “Why is the captain sad?”

“I'm not sure. Santana thinks it's because of you.” 

Blaine nods. It's no more than he had feared. He has brought the whole ship into danger; of course Kurt is angry. But why sad? Maybe Brittany has misunderstood. He tries for a grin, and feels it slipping off his cheeks, dropping down to the deck and breaking into a thousand pieces. His voice breaks as well as he says,

“Well, I'll be gone soon. Then he won't be angry anymore.”

“Of course he will. It'll be even worse, because you'll be gone.”

 

Blaine climbs down soon after, his legs shaking and his mind shaken. He doesn't know what to think anymore, can make no sense at all of Brittany's remarks. He is no stranger to magic, has grown up under its shadow all his life, but this...? The captain, the ship and the crew are one? He has never heard of a spell like this and can't even imagine why one would want to cast it. Their journey is strange, yes. He's never been on a ship before, but he knows they don't just go faster at night and rock when there is neither wind nor waves. But...he just can't wrap his mind around it, and so, as the day goes by and he either sits in the galley or is up on deck trying to be in nobody's way and miserable no matter where he is, he eventually stops trying.

He should be past caring, he tells himself. None of it matters anymore; in a few weeks—and as fast as they are going, it can't be more than two or three at the most—they'll reach their destination. There's no need to worry what Kurt may think of him because he will be gone...he will be dead.

And Kurt will forget him and go on.

If he must think, there are other things to think about. For example, why the amulet never stops buzzing, vibrating against his skin all the time. He knows it's glowing, too, though he doesn't dare unwrap it. And there are still the strange words of the inscription that he is sure are important, but he still doesn't know what they mean.

He worries a little about that, but his thoughts keep returning to Kurt, and in the end, at nightfall, he stands at the stairs and watches Kurt emerge from his cabin.

He looks tired, as always these days, but there is still a little glow to him, and when he walks past Blaine with barely a nod, the amulet against Blaine's chest trembles so much his shirt moves with it, and he has to clutch a hand above it to keep it still.

Kurt walks up to the railing, to the wheel, and looks out into the dusk, at the rising moon. He says a few words to Santana but then turns around to Blaine, who is still standing on top of the stairs even though he knows he should go downstairs to avoid things getting awkward.

Kurt looks back at him with the smallest of smiles, but there is so much heartbreak and loneliness in his eyes that it makes Blaine's breath hitch. He doesn't know what caused that look, if it was him, but he knows he would do anything to make it go away. It doesn't matter if he has to go soon; as long as he's here, he wants to try and make things better. He doesn't quite know how, but he knows he'll have to try.

Because as he lies in bed that night, the ship has stopped rocking. Cold and loneliness seem to permeate every plank. It chills him to the bone, and he knows that every person on this ship feels the same. And if they are all, like Brittany said, somehow tied to Kurt, he is the only one who can make it better.

 

The next morning, not too early, he takes a deep breath for courage and knocks on Santana's door. He hopes she isn't asleep: he has never been able to determine when, if at all, she is asleep. She certainly always seems to be around when someone makes a mistake. And he has made a mistake, and can only hope she won't take him down as deep as he deserves.

As she opens the door, she is dressed, alone and doesn't even seem overly unhappy.

“I expected you earlier,” she says by way of greeting and motions for him to come in and sit down on her clothing chest.

He gives an inner head shake and decides not to wonder how she knew he would come. There are too many things going on here he doesn't understand; he'll go mad if he wonders about all of them.

“What do I do?” he asks instead. If she knew he'd come he has no doubt she knows why he's here, and anyway, it's not so hard to guess. The situation on the ship is one really, really giant elephant in—well, on the ship, and if he wants to take the metaphor further, it's about to crush them.

“I'm not sure there's something you can do,” she says pensively. “To be frank, I fear you have managed to destroy us.”

“But how? I know I brought the guards on your ship, and I'll be eternally sorry to have endangered you. But...we escaped, didn't we? I mean I -”

“Not that, you longshore lubber. That was bad, but what's going on now is so much worse.”

“What is going on?”

Santana sits down on her bunk, draws up her knees, and looks at him as if contemplating how much to tell him. After a long while in which Blaine hardly dares breathe, she speaks.

“For....people...like Kurt and me, there is...one person on earth, in all of time, who is, I guess you could say, meant to be with us. We can be with other people, of course, but that one person is special. They can...change, if they choose to, to be like us, and stay with us forever.”

She looks at him, and her gaze is hard to interpret. There's joy in it, and rage, and so much sadness.

“Very rarely do we find that person. I have been incredibly lucky to have found Brittany, and she has agreed to change for me so we can be together. Kurt thinks...he thinks you are that person for him. I'm not so sure. For both of us to find their person, in the same part of the ocean, and at this time....would be so improbable as to be practically impossible.”

When she looks at him now, Blaine has to look away. Her eyes are hard, her gaze unflinching and cold.

“I don't want it to be you. I don't know who you are, you are lying to us, nobody knows what's going on with you!”

She's almost screaming, and Blaine flinches, but almost instantly, she calms again.

“It would be nothing if you made him happy. But as all of us can plainly see, you're not. He's as miserable as I have ever seen him, and so are all of us, of course. I don't know what's wrong with you that you don't want him, but if you don't, then...then there's nothing you can do. Nothing anyone of us can do.”

Her voice breaks at the last words, and she doesn't look at him. She doesn't continue speaking, so after a moment, Blaine quietly leaves.

 

He goes to his hiding place in the hold. He hasn't been there since they've been on their way again, because he doesn't like to remember the terror he felt when the soldiers came so close to finding him. But now, it's the only place he can go.

His pallet is still lying on the floor. A few rat droppings fall out of the folds of the blanket as he pushes it to the side, but he pays them no mind; he sits down heavily and finally lets the tears fall.

He doesn't understand half of what Santana said, but what he does understand is that he has brought this pain down on Kurt.

For if what she says is true, if there is but one person for him in all the world, and if he believed that against all odds he has been lucky enough to find that person, how much must it hurt to lose them?

And lose him he must, because Blaine can't stay.

He can't.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! It's because I did the Klaine advent.

Then again...why can't he? Just toss the amulet into the sea so no one will ever find it again, and not die? After a while, they'd stop looking for him, and he could just be whatever it is that Kurt wants him to be, and stay here forever.

Leave Cooper to fend for himself. Leave him to his death by an angry crowd, or to be sacrificed on the Moon Isle even without the amulet, in the hopes that maybe the sacrifice would be enough to keep the spell alive. Or leave Cooper to watch them take his daughter away, little Maya, who called him Uncle Blaine and liked when he read to her, and had wanted him to teach her play the harpsichord.

This is why he can't stay. It's a good thing, he tells himself, to remember that he has a reason for doing this.

He just wishes he could have had a few more moments to forget, to imagine what it would be like to stay here, be Kurt's...whatever it is he would be, to live without fear, without this duty.

He only crawls out of his hiding place at dusk, trying to avoid everyone and anyone on the ship. He feels guilty, knows he's the one to blame for the misery all of them are feeling.

As he enters the state room, though, Kurt is still there, staring out of the tiny window and looking like he'd rather be anywhere but here.

“Oh, sorry,” Blaine says when he sees him, and turns to go, but Kurt stops him.

“No, please stay. I wanted to talk to you. Please.”

Blaine hesitates, then nods and sits down at the table where they used to have breakfast together. He doesn't quite know what there is to talk about; he doesn't think talking could make the situation any better. Then again, it could hardly make it worse.

Kurt looks at him with something like a smile. “It's very hard to keep secrets on a ship. So I know you talked to Santana. And I....I think I need to apologize.”

“ _You_ need to apologize?”

Kurt nods. Hesitantly, he put a hand on the table, palm up. Blaine quickly puts his hand into Kurt's. It is not wise, maybe, but he feels that with Kurt's hand in his, he might be able to bear the abyss. He feels stronger with Kurt's hand in his, and almost happy.

Squeezing his hand and with a genuine smile for the first time in days, Kurt continue. “Whatever I might feel...or hope for doesn't mean an obligation for you. You're not required to...do anything just because I might wish it.” He laughs a little. “Even though I demanded obedience when we first met, it was only regarding matters of the ship. I wouldn't order you to...spend your life with me or anything.”

Spend your life with me. Pain floods Blaine as he considers what he is offered, and what he has to refuse.

“Is...is that what I would be doing?” he asks, his voice breaking.

Kurt doesn't answer, and Blaine understands. Kurt has his secrets, just the same as Blaine, and however much they might guess of the others', they won't tell.

“If it helps,” he says, “Were I free to do as I wanted, I would do...that. Spend my life with you, or whatever you asked of me.”

Kurt just looks at him for a moment. Then he shakes his head. “I don't know if that helps or actually makes it worse.” He shrugs. “Whatever...may happen, I want to try and at least...be friends for the time we've left together. I don't want to be angry all the time. It's not good for the ship, or the crew.”

“Or you,” Blaine says.

Again, Kurt looks at him. “Right.”

“I want to be friends, too,” Blaine says. “I've missed you. And I...I know I'll always be sad because of what...can't be, but...”

He's never been so open with Kurt before, they've never really talked about what might happen between them except the day after Blaine ran away from Kurt's bed. It hurts terribly to say those words, and he doesn't know if he can do it. Be friends with Kurt, knowing what they could be instead, what both of them want them to be.... But it must be even worse for Kurt, and if he is willing to try, then Blaine can do no less.

* * *

 

They don't go back to their easy talking from before, and Blaine knows there will be no shared breakfasts in the future, nor a shared bed. But when Kurt finally leaves with a “Good night” and a smile, Blaine's heart is lighter.

It is only when he is lying in bed already and tries not to smell Kurt's scent in the pillow, that he notices the amulet around his neck has stopped buzzing so angrily. Instead, it is sitting there, glowing quietly and humming in a way that almost seems...content.

Blaine doesn't know what that means. He has always assumed that the amulet is reacting to the growing proximity to the moon island, but now....it seems attuned to Kurt, to Blaine's relationship with Kurt, or the atmosphere on the ship.

Or a thousand other possibilities that just don't come to mind right now.

Anyway, he can't let his actions be decided by an amulet, however magical it might be, however ancient and mysterious.

Instead he just tries to go to sleep as content as the amulet seems to be.

He dreams again.

This time, he can see the Moon Isle, not only the lake. He walks its shores, he climbs stony hills and slips on wet moss, and eventually, he's standing on top of a ridge and looks down into the dark, fathomless waters of the lake. He slips again, threatens to fall, feels his body fight, fight—in a remote corner he knows that really he's thrashing on his bed, but in the dream, he gains his equilibrium back at the last moment. As he's stepping back, breathing hard, he wonders why falling fills him with panic when now, he must climb down, then cut his wrists and walk into the lake to drown.

He climbs. And it feels like the hills themselves are trying to hold him back. They are more treacherous on this side, he can't find holds for his feet or his hands. He has to walk what seems like miles around a deep ravine with edges so sharp they cut his feet. He leaves bloody footprints as he walks, every step an agony, and in the dream, he seems to know it's the island that's doing this, and he is angry at it for making it so hard to do something he doesn't want to do in the first place.

When he finally makes it down, he looks up just to see Kurt standing on the ridge, high above him, looking down at him with eyes in which somehow he can still see the sadness and the fear.

 

He is happy when he wakes up before he actually has to make the decision to walk away from Kurt—but he knows he'll have to make it soon, for real.

* * *

 

Life on the ship improves after their talk, and Blaine reluctantly comes to the conclusion that what Brittany said must be true. Kurt is...not happier, not happy at all, but calmer, more cheerful. So is work on the ship. Nobody sings while working, but they do talk again, and while the orders are still short and sharp, it's more because that's the way orders are.

He and Kurt don't really talk, but they've stopped evading each other, and when they pass, they smile. The ship has stopped rocking more than an ordinary ship. It's also stopped going so fast at night, but it doesn't go slowly, either. It goes evenly, constantly, towards a destination it has no desire to reach but has no way around. Maybe that's the word to describe everything: inevitability. Resignation, acceptance, depending on the time of day and the captain's mood that is, after all, not only influenced by Blaine.

For Blaine, it's resignation, most of the time. He has stopped fighting, stopped doing much at all. Tries to stop caring as well. It's hard when all he wants to do is make Kurt smile every day, when he wants to talk to him, wants their breakfasts back, wants Kurt's bed with both of them in it...wants Kurt.

When he wants Kurt.

He tries not to, but can't help imagine their lives if he could just stay. Both of them, on this ship, for the rest of their days. Surely at some point, Santana would talk to him again. He'd find his place, become better friends with Brittany and the rest of the crew. He'd learn everything there is to learn aboard the ship. He'd climb the rigging without fear, he'd live without fear. He'd travel, see the whole world. And he'd be with Kurt. Kiss him, bed him, be with him every day.

It sounds endlessly exciting, and also soothing in its monotony.

It makes him so sad he can't stand it, and he is glad the ship doesn't react to him like it does to Kurt.

Kurt...now they've gone back to a tentative friendship, Kurt seems okay. There's an underlying sadness in everything, and Blaine is sorry for everyone on the ship for having to live with that. But it seems bearable. And Blaine thinks Kurt must have a greater fortitude than he does, for being able to stand it.

Sometimes he thinks, if life has to be like this, death will come as a relief.

 

Then, one day, their sentry calls out: “Land, ho!”

Blaine stands on deck, hands clasping the railing, and watches the Isle of the Moon draw nearer and nearer. It does look like in his dream, and yet it doesn't. There will be no moss to slip on, he knows, and he knows his tale of rare herbs growing on the island would have been ludicrous for everyone who knows the Isle.

Black, barren rocks, with nothing growing, not a tree, nothing. The lake is hidden from sight by the sharp, ragged hills surrounding it. The island is of a strange, unsettling beauty.

It is late afternoon by the time they are close enough. There is no port, natural or man-made, and there are rocks in the water with edges so sharp they could cut any ship to pieces if the current pushed it against them with enough force. They need to take him there in a little boat. Blaine waits for them to launch one, but nothing happens. Everyone stands around doing nothing except for Santana on the wheel, who navigates carefully and makes sure they stay out of the current.

After a little while, Blaine goes to Kurt, who is standing at the railing, watching the island with a stony gaze

. “Permission to disembark, captain?” Blaine asks, and Kurt turns to face him.

“Denied,” he says, with the same stony gaze. “I should have done this a long time ago. You are not to leave until you have explained yourself.” He raises his voice. “Mr Anderson is not allowed to leave this vessel. If he tries, you are to detain him and put him in my cabin.” Then he starts to walk away.

Somehow, Blaine is not even surprised. He makes a decision in less than a second. He touches the amulet around his neck to make sure it's still there, and then he grabs Kurt's arm to stop him from leaving. As Kurt turns, he ignores his surprised look and presses their lips together. It's at once forceful and tender, and he tries to put everything he feels into he kiss, his love, his regret, most of all the regret.

Then he ends the kiss, smiles, and runs.

And when he reaches the railing, he jumps.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't want to spoil anything, but if you feel you might be triggered, please scroll down to the end and read the warnings there.

Sailors can't swim. Swimming would only prolong their suffering when their ship sinks in open sea; instead of dying quickly with only a short struggle, they would try to save themselves and swim until complete exhaustion, and only drown in the end after all.

It's what Kurt told him, once, and it's what he relies on now as he dives into the ice-cold water, gasping as it closes around him. He narrowly misses the rocks, doesn't bash open his skull or cut his limbs. It's luck, or maybe the Moon God wants his sacrifice whole.

He wishes it didn't have to be like this, he didn't have to go like this. He hears shouting on the ship, and something splashes into the water behind him. He turns: it's a rope, meant for him to cling to as they pull him back on board.

But nobody jumps after him, and swimming with strong, sure strokes he is soon out of earshot as well. He doesn't know if the wetness on his face is water or tears. He doesn't want to leave them. Not just Kurt—though especially him, but all of them have become his friends in the few short weeks he's sailed with them.

His wet, heavy clothes try to drag him down, and for a moment, he thinks of just letting go—just letting himself sink into the icy depths and die right here. But he's come so far; it would be a shame to not even see the moon lake, and besides, the water starts to get too shallow for the amulet to be irretrievably lost.

So he swims, fighting cold, exhaustion and grief, until finally, he feels the ground beneath his feet and drags himself ashore.

He lies there for a moment, probably longer, the very thought of rising and walking too much for his exhausted body. But soon, he starts trembling and is reminded that he is soaking wet and really, really cold.

So he moves, sits up, looks around. The island is as barren as it looked from afar, all rocks and sand and water. It's beautiful in a bleak, dark way; even the sand is black, and while the setting sun can't give the island a cheerful look, its rays make the rocks glisten blue.

This is where he will die.

He gets up, brushes the wet sand from his clothes, and starts walking. He's shivering and miserable, but hardly feels it. He is oddly detached from everything, like he is watching himself, a distant spectator.

He looks back to see if someone has come after him, though he doesn't think so. Kurt shouldn't care enough to leave his ship and his crew behind for someone who is, after all, not much more than a stranger. The area isn't safe, the water treacherous around here. They need him. Blaine doesn't. There's nothing Kurt could do for him here, nothing that wouldn't make his task all the more difficult.

He keeps walking. It's getting darker now, the sun nearly gone behind the higher rocks on the other side of the island. It's good: he has to do it tonight and wouldn't want to have to wait long for moonrise, and he hopes the full moon will provide enough light for him to find his way.

Walking turns into climbing soon as he gets to the black, jagged rocks. They're slippery like in his dream, only not from moss but because they're wet, and as he soon finds out, falling hurts a lot more than it did in the dream. He tears his clothes and his skin as well, and soon he's more stumbling and crawling than climbing, up the rock and then down again and up the next. It's hard work, and like in his dream, he hates whatever made this so hard, so very hard to do something he doesn't want to do.

When the sun is finally setting for good, Blaine sits down to rest, watches the last rays turn the pools of water to red, drinks from one of them out of his cupped hand, tries not to think. Thinks of Kurt. Is it a good thing to have met him? He had been, he thinks, resigned, before. Had thought about his death with indifference, almost. It's cruel to have met him, who has filled him with the wish to live, with an easy joy in living he has never felt before. And yet he wouldn't wish it differently. He wouldn't want to go to his death without knowing Kurt, without knowing the feelings he has woken, without the memory of his lips on his.

At least, he got to have this.

He gets to his feet again, ignores how they ache, ignores the blood seeping out of a cut on his knee, ignores his hunger. The cold is harder to ignore. His clothes are still wet, and he shivers, the physical exertion somehow making him feel the cold all the more.

It's fully dark now, and yet he stumbles on. After a little while, the moon rises, and it is full and beautiful, shining brighter than he has ever seen before, but it does little to illuminate his way. Still, he is not without sight: the amulet is like a beacon now, shining, leading his way. Despite that, though, he falls more than before, maybe more from exhaustion than lack of sight; once, he tumbles down a small crevice and sprains his ankle. He ignores that as well, although he is limping now. He crawls more than he walks after that, trying to find his way by touch more than sight. He feels like at this rate, he will reach his goal sometime next week, but at some point, he can see the lake shimmer through the rocks.

Somehow, it gives him hope, and the strength to carry on. It looks so beautiful, the more he can see of it, he's hardly able to tear his eyes away. It's black as well, like everything on this island, at this time of night, but the moon reflects in it and makes it shine. It's completely still, there's not a ripple in the water even though Blaine can feel a breeze ruffling his hair.

He conquers the remaining rocks, somehow, though not without getting himself a few more scrapes and bruises.

Then he is standing at the lake, the water nearly reaching his toes. His hand goes to his throat, feels for the amulet: it's still there, still shining, and now he knows why: because it belongs here, belongs to this island. Like the island, it is of the Moon God. Its beam shows him a sort of walkway at the other side of the lake. It shines upon a large stone that draws Blaine's attention; although there is no reason he couldn't walk into the water just where he is, he finds himself taking off what remains of his shoes and walking around the lake, the cool, soft sand pleasant on his bruised feet.

As he walks, he looks back to the rocks on whose other side, he knows, there is a ship, its crew maybe still wondering what became of him. It gives him comfort to know that they are there, that they will still be there when he's gone.

There is a silhouette on one of the rocks, standing high above him. For a moment, it shines as bright as the moon himself, and it looks like...it looks like Kurt. But that can't be. Kurt hasn't followed him, hasn't left his ship behind, and even if he had, there's no way he would already be there, up on the last rocks before the lake, looking down on him.

And when Blaine looks again, the silhouette is gone.

He falls down into the sand and sobs, because he wishes so much it was real, that Kurt had somehow found a way to come to him, found a way to save him, a way for them to be together. He cries for what feels a long time, in dry, heaving sobs that exhaust him even more, and he can't seem to stop. It's only when the amulet around his neck starts buzzing insistently that he shakes himself out of it: now is not the time to cry. He has known all along it would come to this, and now is the time to make an end.

His gaze falls on the reason the amulet is buzzing so much, or at least he thinks it is: the large stone he has seen before. Again, he is drawn to it, and can't help but touch. It's smooth, cool and soothing to touch, but then his fingers feel indentations on the stone, and, curious, he lets the light form his amulet shine on it. Engraved on the stone are the same symbols as on the amulet, along with the words, in a much larger, somewhat disquieting script: _Mãne starvat_. There is a larger, circular indentation beneath the writing, and he is almost sure the amulet would fit right into it. It starts to vibrate even more, as if to say, yes, this is where it belongs, but Blaine stills it with a firm hand and shakes his head. He can't put it in there; it would be too easy to find. It needs to go with him, into the unfathomable depths of the Moon Lake, so it can never be found again.

And he needs to go, too.

He draws his dagger, takes a deep breath, and cuts his wrists, first one, and then quickly the other. He gasps, though it doesn't hurt as much as he thought it would. He starts walking into the lake, his blood flowing down, soaking his clothes and disappearing into the water. He lets his bleeding hands sink into the water; the cold numbs the pain, and he can't see the blood in the darkness.

He walks slowly, feeling dizzy and not quite there; it's not long, he knows, until he will lose consciousness. Fortunately, the lake gets deep quickly, even now, the water reaches his waist, and soon, he thinks, he will take a step and his foot won't reach the ground. Then he will just let himself sink, and die.

It's not so bad. He is cold and thirsty, but both is easy to ignore as all will be over soon. He feels no pain, and is to weak and dizzy to be scared.

He remembers, however, that he is supposed to let his blood go into the amulet so that the spell can be reactivated one last time for Cooper. But as he raises a trembling hand to press his wrist against the amulet, a voice tells him, “Don't.”

He doesn't know where that voice comes from, or who it belongs to, but it is familiar, and somehow, it makes him obey. He lets his hand sink down again, and then there are arms under his shoulders that pull him towards the shore.

“No!” he protests quietly, to weak to fight, but whoever is pulling him out of the water pays him no heed, and much sooner than he'd have thought, he is on dry land again, thinking that all will be in vain as his blood seeps into the sand. They will find him here, and they will find the amulet, and he'll have died in vain.

Something pulls at the chain around his neck, and he feels it tear, and the amulet is taken from him and pressed into the indentation in the stone.

For a moment, everything around him is bright, and he sees Kurt's face, and then he passes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This describes what is essentially attempted suicide. If you want to know what happens without reading the chapter, please message me on tumblr or in the comments.


	12. Chapter 12

Waking up is hard. His eyelids feel glued together, and his throat is so parched that ever speaking again seems impossible. Most of all, though, it's the feeling that this is wrong—that he shouldn't be waking up at all.

Despite everything, there's no mistaking he isn't dead. He vaguely remembers being pulled out of the water, and the amulet being taken from him, and despair wells up inside him. Everything has been in vain. He has failed.

But Kurt had been there. Hadn't he? He had been glowing...Or Blaine had imagined everything. Far more likely that his father's soldiers had found him, that they know a shortcut to the Isle and had been waiting for him. But then...why is he still alive?

Groaning, he finally gives in and opens his eyes. As soon as he does, someone holds his head up and a cup of water to his lips; he drinks thirstily, but the water is taken away far too soon.

Only then he starts to notice his surroundings. He is still at the shore of the lake, lying in the black sand with his head pillowed on something warm and firm. It's still night: the moon shines brightly, brighter than before, and is reflected in the perfectly still waters of the lake.

And beside him, kneeling on the sand, a cup of water in his hand, is Kurt.

Blaine tries to sit up, and lies back down with a groan as the world starts to spin. But when it stops, Kurt is still there, smiling at him. He is still glowing faintly, but he looks tired. Sad, and hopeful at the same time.

“I wish you had talked to me,” he says quietly.

Blaine had wished he could so many times. But how could he? And how did any of this happen? He still has no idea why he is alive, or why Kurt is here.

Slowly, he lifts his hands. He isn't bleeding anymore, and only faint red marks show on his wrists.

“How...?” he begins, but Kurt shakes his head. He shifts, and this is when Blaine notices that his head is resting on Kurt's legs.

“Can I tell you a story?” Kurt asks, and Blaine nods because he can't do anything else. Before Kurt starts talking, however, he lets Blaine have another few swallows of water and then covers him with a blanket. Thankful, Blaine pulls it up to his chin, not only for the warmth, but for the comfort and familiarity it offers.

“Once upon a time,” Kurt says softly, “a thousand years ago, there was a good king. He was gentle and cared for his people, but it may be he did not always make the best decisions, and he did not have an easy time, as his children were quarreling about the succession, and the queen of the neighboring country was openly preparing to invade. The good king's people were afraid, and they began to talk of finding a stronger ruler. So the king sent the son who was nearest to his heart to the Moon God, to pray for help, for some sort of stability that would leave him free to worry about the other things threatening the kingdom. The Moon God, as you know, loves change, but he decided to make an exception for the sake of the young prince, who had touched his heart. He came to love him after a fashion, although of course he knew the prince was not the one destined to be with him. So the Moon God took a stone from his Island, and he fashioned an amulet from it that would bring peace and stability to the kingdom as long as it was in possession of the royal family. Such was his love for the young prince that he granted that boon, even though it could cost him dearly, for he had to pour a lot of his power into the amulet and would grow weaker with every year it was kept. To make sure the amulet worked only for the king's family, a single drop of blood was required. But the prince's siblings, eager to eliminate their competition for the throne, pretended to have misunderstood, and they cut his throat and let his life blood flow into the amulet. The Moon God saw now, too late, that the royal family could not be trusted, and he tried to take the amulet away again. But a promise given by a God is binding, and in his anger, the Moon God decreed that every one hundred years, a child of the royal family must be sacrificed to keep the spell active.”

Blaine gasps, clutches the blanket that is covering him. Kurt knew...Kurt knew more than him, who had studied everything he could about the subject. Kurt seems also to have healed his wounds, and he is still glowing. It is....it is simply to much too fathom for his mind that still starts to spin whenever he tries to think too much. Still...what is he doing here, listening to stories? Even to a story like this?

“Kurt,” he says, voice hoarse and weak, “Kurt, I have to -” What, he doesn't really know. He has failed, hasn't he? The amulet is gone, and he isn't dead.

Kurt shakes his head. “There's nothing you have to do, nothing you can do. I have found you, and I have found the amulet and returned it to its proper place. All will be well.”

“Kurt...” Blaine sits up, the world's still spinning, but he manages to ignore it. “Kurt, please, I need that amulet, you have to -”

Again, Kurt shakes his head, and Blaine finds he can't speak, can't object anymore as Kurt pushes him down so his head is again resting on his thighs, covers him with the blanket once more, and continues speaking.

“You see,” he says, “the sacrifice—that was done in anger, and bad judgement. It was meant as security, to make sure the amulet would be returned in due time without draining too much of the Moon God's powers. For surely, no family would sacrifice one of their own. As you know, the Moon God was mistaken. But he still had hope. When the kingdom was in peace once more, when the succession was in place and the neighboring queen defeated, the Moon God waited for them to come and return the amulet, as they had promised. He waited a long time, but at last, he had to admit they had broken their promise, and that now, the amulet was not used anymore to bring help in a dire situation, but to make sure the power stayed in that one family.”

Blaine swallows. It is clear that this story is much more than just a story, but he still doesn't understand why he has to listen to it now, when he has just lost everything he has worked for. He has to...he doesn't know. Kurt said there was nothing he could do, but there must be something...he must find the amulet. Or...something. Anything but lie here and listen to a story. But Kurt's hand rests heavy on his chest, and as he continues speaking, Blaine finds he can't do anything but listen.

“By the time the Moon God had come to that realization, he was greatly weakened. A lot of his power had gone into the amulet, along with his belief that he had not been betrayed. He tried to find the amulet, to take it away, but he had but a fraction of his former powers, and he failed. And when he tried to return to the heavens after his search, he found he was unable to. He had become too weak, too human, to take his place among the Gods. He was stuck on earth, to live life like a mortal, until he would either be able to acquire the amulet and regain his powers, or—and that seemed much more probable, to be weakened so much he would die.”

Blaine feels like he's about to fall asleep, lulled by the gentle voice of his captain, but something keeps him awake. This is important, he feels—he knows—even though he still doesn't understand.

“A few companions,” Kurt continues, “joined the lost God in his exile. Willingly, they joined their lives with his, to be his friends and his comfort on his travels, and, should the time come, to die with him.” Kurt smiles his little, ironic smile. “The Moon God acquired a ship, and together they sailed the oceans in search of the amulet, or their deaths.”

Blaine gasps and sits up. He remembers the phrase - “acquired a ship”, the strange phrase that had made him fantasize about Kurt being a pirate. And suddenly, he understands—the strange happenings on the ship after nightfall, his dreams, why the amulet had glowed, possibly his own, strange attraction to Kurt.

Awkwardly, he goes down to his knees. But how do you talk to a God? Even a lost one? The words of praise and devotion the priests use do not sound right to him, not after they shared breakfast and kissed.

“Captain,” he ends up saying, and winces because it sounds so absurd. It's how he has always addressed Kurt, but then, this isn't Kurt, is it? It's the Moon God, the deity his people have always revered beyond any other, even though it turns out they betrayed him.He sighs and bows his head.

Until an impatient voice commands him to stand up. “Or rather, sit down again. You're still weak, and you can stop all this...God nonsense. Didn't you hear me say I was little more than a human?” Kurt's voice becomes gentle again, and sad. “Why did you try to kill me?”

“I didn't!” The accusation does little to give him the confidence he'd need to rise in Kurt's presence, so he stumbles back onto his knees, looking up at Kurt with eyes that he knows are wide and frightened. “I tried to kill myself!”

Inexplicably, Kurt laughs. He shakes his head and pulls Blaine down, so that he's half sitting, half lying, his head cradled against Kurt's chest. “I gathered that much, yes. It took almost all of my strength to heal your wounds, even though I'm stronger here on the Island. The point is, had you succeeded, I'm almost certain you'd have taken me with you. I'm so weak, and to fuel the amulet for another hundred years...”

“I didn't know, I swear,” Blaine whispers. He is dizzy at the thought of killing Kurt, a God, his sweet, gentle captain. “No one knew.”

“There is a warning, Blaine. Directly on the amulet. _Mãne starvat_ , it says. _The Moon dies_. It's short, I know, but it should not be that hard to interpret.”

“It's....Kurt. This language isn't spoken anymore. There are no records of it. It's been dead for centuries.”

“Oh.” Blaine turns to Kurt, who looks sheepish and apologetic. It makes it hard for him to believe that this is really a God. “Sometimes it's hard to...stay on top of things, when for you, few things ever change. Human lives are so different.”

Blaine sits up again, what he has to say too urgent to be spoken lying down. “Kurt...I wouldn't have. If I'd known, I'd never -”

Kurt shrugs. “Be that as it may. I...gather you are the unfortunate prince whose turn it was to be sacrificed. But why have you come here all alone? The last time I remember, there were priests, prayers spoken to keep me from interfering...things like that.”

“I ran away,” Blaine says, and briefly explains to Kurt what he had wanted to do, and why. “That's why I need the amulet,” he closes. “Things can't go on like they were. Especially if...if you...”

Kurt chuckles, strokes one hand over Blaine's cheek. “I certainly agree with you there. And in a way, you were successful. You did save me. And the amulet is back where it belongs. Look.”

He indicates the large stone. The indentation that was there isn't anymore. The amulet is in it, its rim glowing slightly, just enough for Blaine to see. It looks like it's become part of the stone.

“There it will stay,” Kurt says. “It can't be taken out again, not without my permission. Which I certainly will not give.”

Blaine stares as the amulet slowly stops glowing. Then he sighs, and leans back into Kurt. He hasn't failed. He hasn't died, but he hasn't failed.


	13. Chapter 13

He must have fallen asleep again, and only wakes when the legs that are his pillow shift, carefully, so as not to disturb him. He sits up, happy to notice that he isn't dizzy anymore, and grins when he sees Kurt wince and rub his legs

. “You're a god, and your legs have fallen asleep?” he teases.

Kurt glares at him as he tries to move his legs back to life. “A human existence, with all its pleasures and inconveniences. Or almost.”

“With the ability to...heal wounds and move a ship without a mast to harbor,” Blaine says. He stretches, uncommonly aware of all his limbs and the little pains and aches that lying on the ground has brought with it. He is still here. He's not dead. It's still a little hard to fathom.

“What...happens now?” he asks hesitantly. He has so much time. His life seems to stretch out endlessly before him, without duties, without expectations. He's never had that. For the first time, he realizes, he thinks past tomorrow.

“Well, first we had better go back to the ship. She's waiting for us, and everyone has been pretty worried about you,” Kurt says.

It seems immediate concerns still take precedence over tomorrow.

“Worried? They're not...mad?”

“Well, both Santana and Puck wanted to punch you as soon as they saw you again. But by now, everyone must have noticed things changing, so we can hope you'll be forgiven.”

Blaine is still ashamed to see them again. He never expected to, and knowing what he does now, he'd have condemned them all.

Slowly, they start walking. Blaine still feels weak, though he isn't sure if it's his body or his mind. And although Kurt is regaining strength quickly, it is obvious that finding Blaine and healing him have cost him greatly.

Still, the island seems...friendlier than before, the rocks less jagged and less slippery, the way easier although it's still dark. A few times, Blaine slips despite that, and every time Kurt's hand appears at his elbow or his waist to steady him, and seems reluctant to leave again.

Blaine wants to take Kurt's hand and hold it, interlace their fingers and never let go again. He wants back in Kurt's embrace and feel his lips on his again.

He doesn't dare. Too much has happened, there is nothing decided between them. Maybe he is the one meant for Kurt—although this is something he can't imagine: how can he be meant to be with a God?

Maybe he isn't.

And even if he is, that doesn't mean Kurt would want to be with him. Would want him.

They sit down on a rock to rest and watch the sun rise. It's a beautiful picture, but Blaine still feels trepidation. He understands enough to know that Kurt will be weaker now, and he fears that something might still go wrong. He knows his father's soldiers are looking for him; they might still find him. They might still get...or no, they don't, do they?

“No one can get the amulet now, do they?” he asks, just to be sure.

“No, they can't.” Kurt says with a smile.

“What about Cooper?”

“What about him? Blaine, it's not like your people will riot as soon as the spell wears off. Discontent needs time to grow, and people don't riot as soon as something goes wrong. Your family still have time to set things right.”

“Oh,” Blaine says, feeling slightly stupid. Somehow he had imagined a screaming mob making its way to the castle this very moment. “That's good.”

Kurt looks at him and speaks hesitantly. “You could even...go back, maybe.”

Blaine tries not to let the thought come up that Kurt wants him gone. “I won't go back. They were prepared to kill me. My mother carried me for nine months and gave birth to me and never looked at me again. My father only ever saw in me an instrument to make sure he stays in power. They were never my family.”

Only Cooper ever treated him like family, like a brother. Not enough to try and save him, but...maybe he could visit once his father was dead. It's a sobering thought, waiting for someone to die, but he would like to see Cooper again. One day. Sam, as well. But...

“I don't know where to go,” he says, realizing. “I never had to make these kinds of plans before.” He laughs a little, although he feels...rudderless. Drifting. With nowhere to go, where does he belong?

Kurt looks at him. “If you could do whatever you wanted, what would you do?”

The answer comes surprisingly easy. “I'd want to come with you. Sail with you again.”

Kurt shrugs, smiling. “There you have it.”

“But that's not possible, is it?” Blaine asks.

“Why not?”

“You have to go back, don't you? I mean, you are the Moon, and the others....Don't you have to go back?”

“The others are stars. Santana is the Evening Star, in fact. Try to call her Vesper if you like, see how she reacts.” After a pause, Kurt takes his hand. He doesn't look at him, but he doesn't let go. “I don't have to go back. It will take another hundred years at last until I regain enough of my power to be allowed back among the Gods. And then... the moon was doing fine all these years. It would have looked different had you succeeded in your plans, but as it is...the moon will be fine.”

“So you don't have to go back?” Blaine needs the reassurance. He can't really believe that he might have everything he wants.

Kurt smiles and shakes his head. “I might go back once in a while when I'm able to again. In fact, I'm certain I will. But I don't have to live there.”

“So could I? Come with you?”

“I hope you will. There's so much I want to show you.” Kurt squeezes his hand, then turns toward him and takes his other one as well. “There's something else. Do you remember what Santana said? About you being the one...for me? The one who could be at my side forever?” He speaks slowly, haltingly. “I'm sure you are. And if you wanted, if you said yes, you could..it would mean that you...became immortal. Not a God, but a kind of celestial being, if you will. If...if you wanted to.”

_Do you want me to?_ Blaine wants to ask, but from the look in Kurt's eyes, he is pretty sure about that. He feels dizzy again. Yesterday, he thought he had one day left. Today, he has all of eternity, if he wants to. It's too much. How could he possibly decide?

But it's an eternity to spend with Kurt. That makes it easy.

“Kiss me?” he asks, finally daring to say it.

Kurt nods, his eyes wide, and draws him closer. Then his lips meet Blaine's.

Blaine closes his eyes and just feels. Kurt's lips sliding over his, and then, tentatively, his tongue. They have done this before, but not so often it has become familiar. And yet, it is. If a kiss can feel like home, like a place to belong, a person to belong to, this is such a kiss.

More than anything else could, it gives him his answer.

He puts his arms around Kurt's neck and breaks the kiss. “Okay,” he says.

Kurt's smile is small, but all the joy in the world is in his eyes.

“Let's go home,” he says.

Hand in hand, they rise. In the distance, in the first rays of the early morning sun, Blaine can see the ship. There will be _words_ from everyone there, and he's not as sure he won't get punched as Kurt seems to be. But they're Kurt's crew, _his_ crew, his home. He smiles.

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this story, and I thank you for all your kudos and commments.


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